Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The farmhouse sat as a decaying specter away from all other buildings. Once a place where grains of all occasions were grown, it had instead become a place to farm suffering. The very specific suffering of one man. Sam Winchester had been shot, kidnapped and tortured. All as a very unusual reward for being prepared to send his brother away to sacrifice himself for the world. Especially someone who had worked alongside God.

Mysterious ways indeed, Sam thought, unable to hold back a snort that only brought his most recent hallucination’s attention on him again. As if pain, or hallucinations, could convince him that it was a good idea to tell this woman anything about other hunters. As if anyone could even match what Lucifer had done to him. He’d already told her that, this Lady Toni, and she hadn’t believed him. Part of him almost wanted Lucifer to turn up in person and prove Sam right. Almost.

Sam debated tuning into what the most recent incarnation of his brother might be talking about and decided against it. There was nothing it could say that he hadn’t already said to himself some time over the past decade. His focus turned back to the specks of dirt on the floor beneath him. Counting them again to be sure they were all still there as he tried to think of a plan through the haze of drugs that filled his mind.

Another soft snort escaped him as he focused on the fact he was drugged again. Lucifer had never needed drugs to make him feel so much worse. With the mess of chemicals inside him it was almost amusing how ridiculous this all was. After the cage this was just some strange entertainment and the recent grief of losing Dean was much worse than anything that had been done for him.

“Someone is an amateur,” Sam laughed under his breath, keeping quiet enough not to be heard from upstairs or by any cameras he didn’t know about. His gaze refocusing on the dirt again, damn, he’d lost count again. He’d have to begin again. “One, two, three-“

His focus is broken again but this time, in an odd change up, not by his own drifting thoughts. Instead a pair of jean clad legs and very familiar bare feet step into his vision. The person - Whoops, no, Sam thought, just another hallucination – blocking his view and filling his world with all too clear familiarity.

“Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Sam sighed, not looking up and refusing to acknowledge that his brain had reverted to hateful tradition.

*

Lucifer had floated in agony for far too long before he realized he was free of Castiel and free of his Aunt who had hurt him so thoroughly again. Instead of killing him, he’d been cast aside by yet another family member to die. There was an odd symmetry to that he would have found amusing if it wasn’t for the way his grace creaked ominously. Fracturing under the weight of trying to stay together and keep him conscious without a vessel after such damage.

He was missing days in his memory he was sure, missing what had happened to his strange ‘allies’, and missing the mark.

The mark.

It had been ripped from him as she had cast him aside. All remnants of it pulled from his grace as if he hadn’t even been worth cursing in her eyes any more. Not even worth that. Not even while he died. That had to be what she expected was going to happen to him.

An odd numbness filled him at that, and not the usual unending rage he used to feel. A rage that had been so comforting when caught in the cage with only the frozen feeling of his own grace around him.

The confusion of the situation brought Lucifer back more into himself, pulling more of his shuddering grace back into place as he focused on the problem. Lucifer had always known the mark had added to his rage, had known from his first ever outburst long after his Aunt had ever been locked away. Gabriel had done something… pranked some lesser angels in an effort to get them to laugh. Lucifer had snapped at him instead. Now he can’t think why, they had always done such things together at one point. It was what family did…

The unusual thoughts were almost painful after eons of easier, harsher thinking. Lucifer had always felt a rage when thinking of home. How could he not? He’d been cast aside for doing exactly what the humans were meant to be worshipped for. Free thought.

Ah.

The satisfaction was almost primal as the familiar rage stocked up again. The certainty that he had been right about what humans were capable of, the damage they could do.. and the hypocrisy of them being able to have free will, and angels not. Why bother making them individuals if they couldn’t be individuals?

The familiar beats of his argument ran through his mind before the current face of his father reappeared in his mind, apologizing. It had seemed genuine. That it had been Sam Winchester advocating on his behalf had only been the icing on the cake. To use a human expression his brother would have mocked him for knowing. Lucifer’s anger drained away and he turned instead to trying to sense anyone that might be able to hold him long enough to heal.

It was a grueling and frustrating search in turn. There were people who had the potential, but it was clear too many would last minutes, maybe hours if he was lucky. He’d leave a trail of death in his wake that would be a sign post to anyone looking for him. All the while he could feel heaven thrumming at the edge of his grace again, an annoying itch that had his father written all over it.

Lucifer didn’t have to do anything to know who had won. It was clear from that insistent pressure he refused to follow. He was truly welcome in heaven again. Now he had it, after years of quiet absence, he had no desire to follow it. A desk job was not his idea of a reward. Just another mess his dear father had left in his no doubt conspicuous renewed absence.

….Lucifer….

The prayer, barely even that even, whispered across his mind. The mind unmistakable as it called out unintentionally to him. Sam Winchester. His favourite human, his human, was calling out to him; the tone filled with the familiar caress of agony he remembered from those first days in the cage. Someone was hurting him.

The usual proprietary feelings filled him at the thought of anyone having anything to do with his human. His vessel. Before the prayer he never would have even thought to try approaching him. Now though he had to try.

The carving on Sam’s ribs would usually keep him from having any hope of finding him, but the prayer worked like a beacon and Lucifer followed what little trace he could. The second call of his name only helping him approach faster.

The farmhouse he found gave him little trouble to slip enough of himself inside to find Sam. The wards were extensive and impressive, but nothing like the bunker’s. Even damaged as he was Lucifer was still an Archangel, power and filled with tricks other angel’s could hope to achieve. There were always holes in any wards that could be slipped through. You just had to know where to look.

*

“Oh Sam, what have they done to you,” Lucifer sighed, his familiar voice bringing another wave of sick amusement to Sam as he stared down at those bare feet. It seemed his brain really did like reruns. His once scarred hand twitched behind his back as he longed to press it, the old routine returning like a cloak.

The legs shifted before his vision as the hallucination crouched before him. Bringing that familiar blonde hair and blue eyes into sight. At least his brain hadn’t tried to update the look to Castiel, that would have been awkward. Trying not to acknowledge the thing, Sam turned his head a little to the side, trying to shield himself with his long hair. Needing some barrier as his past hovered right before him. None of the other recent hallucinations had tried to get so close, but then Lucifer always did like to be different.

“I heard that you know,” Lucifer’s cool voice cutting through Sam’s thoughts as easily as a blade. Filled with that same tone of slight amusement and Sam tried to force back the flinch. Staring unblinking at the floor as he tried to think of anything, or perhaps nothing at all. For the first time since being brought here the chair truly felt like a prison.

A cool hand landed on Sam’s cheek and he did flinch then. So hard that he nearly tipped the chair back, rocking on it precariously before a hand stopped it dead. Lucifer’s hand holding it steady before righting Sam with a care that was more unsettling than the chair had been. The other hand never leaving his cheek, but being equally insistent in turning his gaze back to the hallucination.

“I’m not a hallucination Sam,” Lucifer’s tone was in that same gentle tone that was so unnerving and so easy to lean into. Sam had a lot of experience with it, it was always worse than the sarcasm and taunting that came after. “Oh Sam, we’re running out of time you know, we need to have a conversation and that works much better with two people.”

Sam frowned at that, his gaze unfocused as he tried to not focus on the face that filled his vision. The drugs made it so hard though. Every thought fell away from him so quickly and it was only the safety of this being too much of a routine was giving him anything like safety. Safety, he’d love some safety right now. The urge to give another amused snort was overwhelming. What had Toni used on him? He’d have to ask her… he did snort then, laughter flickering over his face.

“Sam,” Lucifer’s tone was more forceful then. The hand on his cheek shifting to grip his chin and suddenly Lucifer was all Sam could see. His eyes unwillingly focusing on the hallucination’s, angel’s, whatever before him. “Sam. I’m here, and so will that stupid woman above us if she saw what just happened with the chair. I’m not powerful enough to blow this barn to pieces to get to you properly Sam, and she will hurt you more if you don’t say yes.”

“Oh, just that huh,” Sam replied, trying for scornful. Yet it wasn’t, it was the same amusement. It had to be, this was still funny. Unbidden his face split into a smile, even when people tried to do something new to him it still ended up as reruns. “Don’t you ever get any new lines? I need to tell Chuck to work on his writing skills.”

Sam fell into laughter then at that, uncaring that it was loud. He couldn’t help it. It was just so funny.

“Sam… Sam… SAM,” The hand on his chin shook him a little and it startled Sam back into focusing on Lucifer again.

“How are you touching me anyway?” Sam mused, barely noticing the frustration and worry over Lucifer’s face. It was impossible that the fallen angel cared about him, so he ignored it. “None of the other’s could. Hallucinations that aren’t you are so much better behaved. Or is this a plot hole? I really should talk to Chuck-“

Sam trailed off into distraction, not paying any attention to Lucifer again. It was easier to fall into his fracturing thoughts than do anything else. Perhaps he should try sleeping to get out of it. Perhaps if he played dead they’d all leave him alone. It might even trick his watcher. Chuck really needed to work on his writing if-

Why did he keep thinking of God anyway? He knew God wasn’t writing the story any more. He’d promised he wouldn’t before he’d left the bar to go somewhere. Told him so himself, had told him… he’d told him something else as well. Sam frowned, trying to focus on that memory, feeling it flash slowly past his eyes.

…

“Someone will ask you to say yes to something Sam,” Chuck said slowly, his gaze nervous as he stands to close to Sam, voice low. “I’m not going to write how it goes Sam. I promise it, I won’t do that to you anymore... I’m just going to hope, to ask you to say yes. If you don’t-“

Sam went to ask more, filled with the angry disbelief at being asked such a thing, but Chuck had already gone. Leaving Sam behind in the bar with nobody he wanted to talk to after that.

…

“Sometimes I hate your dad,” Sam said softly, his gaze refocusing on Lucifer. All the fight gone out of him. This was his reward? No brother, torture and now Lucifer again.

“Something we can agree on,” Lucifer murmurs in agreement. Both hands now moving to Sam’s cheeks to smooth away the tears Sam hadn’t even known were falling. “Dean isn’t dead though, you’ve got that wrong.”

Sam frowned at Lucifer at the fact his head was being so blatantly invaded. Then he focused on the words.

“You’re lying to me,” Sam muttered, trying and failing to fight the gentle but insistent hands on his cheeks.

“Now. I’ve never needed to do that, Sam,” Lucifer sighs, turning away from Sam in a startlingly human move towards the trapdoor to the upper floors. There’s sound of movement now. They’ve been noticed. Lucifer’s face is a lot more serious as he looks back to Sam. “She’s going to drug you more Sam. She’s going to take from you something even I didn’t. Consent is everything to an angel after all.”

Those words focus Sam’s attention in a way nothing has since those first drugs touched his system.

“What,” Sam whispers. He wants to tell Lucifer he’s lying again. Wants to deny any of this is happening.

“Sam, she’s coming. She knows something is happening and we’re down to seconds now. I’m not trying to convince you. It’s down to you Sam. You have to choose, me or her.”

Sam stares at him. His horror clear.

“I...” Sam tries, his voice failing him before he asks as hesitantly as he feels, “Dean is alive?”

“Yes he is Sam. Castiel too. They’re looking for you but they’re going to be far too late.”

“Will you take me to him?” Sam whispers, hating the cruel hope that curls unbidden inside him. Even now he still feels like that young boy abandoned in a motel room waiting for his brother to come back.

Lucifer smiles then, wide and broad. Sam hates himself more even as he sees it because he already knows what he’s going to do.

“I promise Sam.”

The sound of the hatch is too loud in the room and Sam knows he’s out of time. He could have resisted Lucifer forever he knows, but Chuck’s words hang heavy around his neck like a stone. The sound of Toni’s feet on the stairs has Sam panicking, speaking before he can stop himself.

“Then yes. I’m saying yes…”

*

Lady Toni had always prided herself on her certainty. There were few problems life had thrown her that she had not been able to solve with a definitive answer. Her methods were ruthless, even for a Man of Letters, but they were surely effective. She got results, and it was frustrating her then, that Sam Winchester was defying her getting those results. She’s been told to just approach them of course, but it was already clear they were at the center of too many strange events to not think them yet another monster. She needed answers and it was clear her more straightforward approach would be better than anything her superiors had planned. She always was right.

The strange events in the cellar over the past few minutes had only proved her point and it was only the care she had needed to prepare the more powerful wave of drugs she had now that had delayed her. Sam was dangerous, and the information she needed was vital. She’d take it from him any way she could. That she would enjoy this next part was only a bonus.

“Oh Sam, we could have done this so much more easily if you’d only wanted to work with me,” Toni sighed as she entered that cellar. Staring condescendingly at the figure in the chair for one long second, before all she knew was white.

Chapter Text

Lucifer poured inside him with that same icy feeling as before, the pain in his grace evident even to the human mind the angel tried to occupy. The first, horrifying time this had happened was a loud memory within Sam's mind, and without the drugs or God’s terrible request, Sam would never have agreed to this again. Would never have agreed to this coming confinement. Yet those same drugs were going to change everything. Drugs are known to have side effects, but none of their creators could have anticipated ones like this. The Men of Letters had designed this cocktail to make their victims suggestible, open to ideas and questions, and all round controllable. The hallucinations it caused were just a handy aftereffect that only made everything else the drugs did that bit more effective. That Sam had resisted as much as he had was a horrifying testament to everything else his life had thrown at him.

Soul and grace crashed into each other through that drug-opened door. The twisting light of Sam’s soul shot through with the red glow of Lucifer’s grace, even as his soul tried to patch the damage the grace had suffered in turn. It was an impossible blending. Something no one could have expected. They didn’t just have access to each other’s memories like some strange cinematic reel. They had become one. Falling into each other’s memories, living them, experiencing them. Becoming them.

…

“This is your brother.” Lucifer barely hears the voice of his father. For the first time in his life he’s more focused on someone else, on the new twisting light before him. So full of the same humour as his own. He loved him. Loved him with all his being in a way he hadn’t felt before. Reaching out to him with his own grace to greet him with a jubilation that’s impossible to hide. His father truly is wondrous with his creations.

“His name is Gabriel.”

The moment Gabriel spends his first few minutes poking his tongue out at Michael behind his back at his stiff and formal greeting, Lucifer knows, they’ll be inseparable forever.

…

“This one is called a Zebra, Sammy.”

Dean's voice speaks so kindly, if a little quiet in the library they’re hiding out in. Their dad is here reading the adult books for something they’re still too old to help with properly. So, Dean has snuck them over to the kids' section and is teaching Sam about all the animals they won’t get time to see at the local zoo. Sam thinks this is so much more special. Any time with his brother is all he needs.

“What does a Zebra do?” Sam asks, ever curious. Staring up at his brother with trusting eyes from where he’s curled up next to him.

“Eats grass, runs around. Whatever a Zebra wants to do, Sammy,” Dean manages a serious tone. He surely knows everything about Zebras and now Sam does too.

…

Lucifer’s heart breaks as he watches his Aunt destroy another of his father’s creations. The growing system of planets disintegrating into nothing alongside the fading star. It had been beautiful. His father’s work is always majestic. Gabriel and Lucifer always sat watching their father work while planning ways to prank their more serious brothers. The pranks were how they showed they loved them after all. Lucifer couldn’t help but be delighted every time Gabriel caught on to how he did some of his tricks. Tricks that Michael hadn’t even learnt to do yet and he was the oldest of them all.

“This can’t go on,” God says softly. His words barely audible even to the two archangels. For the first time in his life Lucifer feels afraid of what is to come.

…

“No Sammy, there’s no time,” His dad snaps.

At the tone Sam feels himself snapping to attention and has to swallow down the irritation at it.

“It’s just one night dad,” Sam replies softly, trying to state his case. Only to shrink back at the serious look his father shoots him.

“We’re here on a case, Sam. Do you want people to suffer just for a show?” Sam hunches over on himself with a shake of his head. He’d been so excited to have a part in the play. It had never happened that they’d been somewhere long enough he’d make it to the performances. He’d been so excited to ask his dad to go. To have one night like everyone else. The disappointment is crushing. Sam doesn’t even see his father give a gruff nod before turning to Dean. “Keep your brother safe.”

Dad is gone through the motel room door before Dean can even answer. Sam jumps a little as Dean hand lands on his shoulder.

“I’ll take you to the show, Sammy.” Dean reassures him. “I’ll come watch.” Sam couldn’t be more grateful for his brother. His whole world.

…

Lucifer stands triumphant at his father’s side. His aunt fading away into the cage they had fought so long to catch her in. His father’s creations will be safe, and the excitement for what to come cuts through to protect him from the pain his grace is still in from the fight. Raphael will heal him, or his father. They’re family after all.

“I’m proud of you all,” God’s words wash over them all as a balm and Lucifer is filled with no undue pride as that gaze turns upon him alone. “That you would do this for me, Lucifer, fills me with more pride still.”

Lucifer offers himself over to his father’s wishes with no hesitation. The pain of the key burning into his grace is beyond anything the battle had done to him, but it lasts for only a moment. Marking into him with a symbol never seen before. He inspects it hesitantly, but feels no regret. He has done as his father has requested, and that is all he has ever wished to do. Even when Raphael heals him later the mark continues to throb within his grace. He tries to ignore it. Surely his father knows. All must be as it is.

…

The weight of the gun is disappointingly familiar. Sam’s mind drifting briefly back to being given the same weapon when he had nightmares when he was younger. It hadn’t helped then and it didn’t feel like much help now with his father behind him teaching him more of the finer aspects of shooting. The annoyance he used to feel in fits and bursts as a child had become a constant itch now he was a teenager. This was not how life was meant to be. It was clear with every school they went to, every book he read, every other family he saw. His father was consuming what was left of their family after the death of his mother… Sam sometimes wondered how much would be left.

“Try again Sam.” There’s an edge of happiness to the tone of his father’s words so Sam knows he’s done rather well. His father is never satisfied with anything but perfection. Praise is rare in this household.

…

The pain in his grace from the mark seems almost normal now. A throbbing that feeds the growing misgivings he feels as he watches his father create. He had loved all that his father has made before. Brilliant things to see and explore alongside his brothers, but now there were so many more brothers. Hundreds of them, and while he knew all their names they were so much lesser than the other archangels. A distance stood between them that he had no desire to breach with all but a handful. His eyes narrowed as he watched Gabriel dance amongst them all. His brother, who had once always been glued to his side, had less time for him these days. The only one of the archangels, it seemed, that delighted in their growing family and wished to know them all so deeply. Ever trying to bolster the spirits of these new angels. Making them laugh. Lucifer felt anger for the first time. A true possessive anger, and the mark upon his arm feels soothed for the first time in eons.

…

It was raining again on his walk home from school and Sam hunched in over himself. He tried to ignore as best he can the splashes from the cars that passed him by. Focused only on getting back to the motel room. At least there he would be warm. If hungry. His brother had started hunting with their father, and the little money he had been left to feed himself had run out two days ago. He’d slipped extra food in his bag from the canteen, but he couldn’t take much for fear of being caught. Sam wished he could say that this wasn’t becoming routine. With all he was growing, he was never not hungry, and his stomach was a constant, yawning void within him. It was all he could do to get through the English test today, but he’d given himself energy with his spite. He wasn’t going to lose to all this neglect. He was going to get out. He knew he was.

…

Lucifer grinned as he pinned Michael to the floor in their most recent sparring session. His blade to his throat as violent delight at his victory thrummed through him and made the pain he always felt turn into a pleasant hum. His grin widens as he realizes how easily he could finish it forever, but he wouldn’t. Michael is his dear brother after all and instead he rises and offers Michael a hand up instead.

“Well fought, brother,” Michael nods, before extending a wing with a wince, “If perhaps a little too well fought. It feels like you truly wanted to take my wing off at one point.”

“As if I would ever try to do that, Michael,” Lucifer scoffs, but inside he wonders if his words are entirely true. He loves Michael, though, it has to be true. He tries to hold back more on following spars, but each time it becomes harder. They reach a point where Raphael has to sit in when they spar. No one speaks of it, and it just becomes their new normal. He never spars with the younger angels after that though.

…

The ghost of a young boy shouldn’t be able to slam you through a wall, Sam decides as he tries to recover his breath. Forcing himself up from among the shards that had been part of the house to swing the shotgun around. It’s slightly too big for him, but crouched as he is the shot takes out the ghost briefly as the salt round goes through it. Sam had thought joining them on the hunts now he was old enough would be better than before. His education sorted with a correspondence course that follows him from hunt to hunt thanks to Bobby’s silent interference. Yet, being on the hunts brought whole new problems of their own. Just like the ache in his back he hopes doesn’t mean he’s damaged a rib.

“Dean, I hope you’ve found it!” Sam calls as the ghost begins to reform. Shifting again to use a hopefully more supportive wall to rest his back against. Lining up another shot, pausing only because the ammo is running low and he has faith in his brother.

“It’s done!” Dean calls, his words unnecessary as the ghost begins to flicker before him, then disappears. Dean emerges from the destroyed living room to give him a bright grin. “Who knew someone could be so attached to their stamps?”

“It can be anything Dean, you know that.”

“Yes, but stamps Sammy,” Dean laughs, stepping closer to purposefully mess up Sam’s hair. He really hopes he’ll end up taller than his brother so he can escape that hand. Pushing at it now with his free hand in annoyance, but not so annoyed as to ever forget his gun safety. “They were even more of a nerd than you are!”

“You’re such a jerk, Dean!”

“Well, you’re a bitch, Sammy.”

…

Lucifer leans in place as he listens to Metatron talk and talk and talk. His head fills with all the many ways he could make the little angel make noises he would much prefer to hear than this prideful boasting. Screaming perhaps. Anything to stop him from talking as though he could be higher than the archangels. As if his father would have given such a menial task as writing those tables to an archangel. It was all things an archangel knew anyway, or could do innately. They were so much more than even the Seraphs, and sometimes the pride of his brother’s grated on Lucifer. He knew it was pride of his own that he felt that way, but at least he knew he could serve his father well. All the archangels had. These angels were all untested. They didn’t even know their aunt had existed. Scorn fills him as Metatron continues, some of the lesser angels hanging on his every word. Lucifer has moved to place his hands on Metatron’s shoulders before he has even realized it. Head tilted to look down at the suddenly scared angel in his grip.

“What are you talking about, Brother?” Lucifer asks. None of the usual brightness he normally fills his tone with present. His words as cool as his grace that he lets play along his brother's. Entirely non-threateningly. Of course, entirely. He wouldn’t hurt his brother would he? He lets his smile grow in such a way as to imply that Metatron couldn’t be sure of that at all. “Seems like an entertaining topic.”

“Oh nothing, Lucifer, nothing!” Metatron replies overly brightly. His answering grin all jagged edges and growing fear. It fills Lucifer with delight to see. If he won't respect the archangel’s, at least he can fear.

…

Sam’s hands shake as he fills in the application forms to Stanford. It feels like some strange fever dream that he’s even attempting this. He’s got this far in stolen moments on the laptop, that had once been bought for all of them, but had become more his with his growing skills at research. Sometimes he’d had to work on his statement on stolen moments on a library computer and save it on an equally stolen pen drive that never leaves his person. There’s nothing really left to do before he sends it. Sam knows. He’s just nervous. He wants this more than he’s ever wanted anything. It’s been his goal for so many years, if he loses it now.

“Hey Sam,” Dean’s voice cuts across his thoughts as he bursts back into the motel room to pick up an extra bag of supplies. “Dad’s got a lead. He’s swinging around now to pick us up. Time to go!”

Sam nods and is already standing before looking back to the laptop. Before he closes it he finally hits send.

…

If Lucifer had been jealous at the creation of his other brothers and sisters. It is nothing to what he feels now watching his father dote on these strange beings before him in just the same way he had once doted on the archangels. Those days seem millennia in the past now. Humans, he called them. Lucifer finds he even detests the word; they’ve stolen so much of his father from him. To think he had once thought himself the favourite. The mark on his grace burns hot. For once, it feels like it only fuels him. An old friend, it’s all too easy to listen to calling to him. He fails to notice it curling more insistently into his being. Taking a deeper root, even as his frown grows. He needs to show his father that the archangels are just as worthy. He needs to show his father that these humans are unworthy.

…

Sam has had the acceptance letter for a week now. He knows he needs to say something, but the dream feels so precious that he’s scared to share it lest it shatter. He’s already accepted, of course he has, he’s just… hoping for excitement he knows will never come. He’s rung Bobby. The man had been delighted for him and readily sworn himself to secrecy. It breaks Sam’s heart, but he fears that Bobby will be the only one who will be happy for him. Dean will hide any pride in him behind fear of what his father might do. Dad won’t like this at all. Part of Sam still hopes he will. It’s a mess. So, the letter has sat hidden within his duffel for a week. It’s been too long, it’s not been long enough. Maybe tomorrow he’ll say something. He knows he has to soon.

…

The betrayal had hurt. Of that, Lucifer is the most angry. Michael had invited him to talk, had wanted to discuss things. Lucifer had been delighted, but he’d been lied to. He’d walked right into a trap he had never seen coming. Attacked and held down by his eldest brother, staring up into a gaze that only held cold duty and not a single spec of love. It had cut deeper than the wounds to his wings that had sung out through the host of angels in his agony. He'd barely heard his father’s voice. Not until the yawning gulf had opened up beneath him and he’d fallen into darkness. His father, Rapheal and Micheal that last thing he saw before the darkness of this cage had closed in around him.

The cloying, silent void of the cage far more oppressive than any box. Folding up on himself he collapsed in the center of his new prison. Abandoned and alone. Without the forces that had sided with him. Without his brothers and sisters. Without Gabriel. The silence claws up into his being like madness, twisting into his grace until he screams to try and cut it out. Needing anything to give this space form, dimension. Anything that isn’t the endless cold of his grace or the pulsing pain of what remains of the mark. A lasting trace that even passing it to Cain hadn’t removed, the roots cut deep and ever-slicing into him. In the dark, he can’t help but find comfort in that painful agony. At least it’s something to focus on. Pain means he still exists. Through it all though. One thought remained. Why had Gabriel abandoned him?

…

The memories pressed on to either mind. A lifetime lived in moments. Eons passing like a breath, years in a heartbeat. Both unwelcome and desperately yearned for, yet there was no escaping them. It became hard to tell where Lucifer ended and Sam began. Where the human form ceased and grace arose.

They were Sam.

They were Lucifer.

They were apart.

They were together.

In the growing dark of the cellar. They finally opened their eyes.

Chapter Text

They stared down at the floor beneath them. Not just seeing the dirt that covered it, but the ghost of all the recent feet that had passed through the area. Echoes of all the life this place had ever seen or could see. Their senses passed through all the different spectra around them as they tried to reach a balance and bring themselves to a point where both the minds they were could make sense of all they could see. More could come later after they were free.

Of course now the drugs can be dissipated, one part of them sighed. Neither sure if either of them or both had spoken. The lines unclear between them. Both were unsure how to pull apart yet and unwilling to fracture this strange understanding they had gained.

With a thought, the ropes that bound them dissolved away, and it’s with a strange unsteadiness they stand. Flexing their hands in front of them in a strange curiosity before one moves to cup their face. A strange act of tenderness that makes them smile as they use the motion to heal their body completely. It seemed better somehow to do it that way than some cold efficiency. 

Everything’s changed.

It didn’t matter which of them the thought came from. Lucifer and Sam knew it to be true; whoever they were together, it had changed things. It remained to be seen how far the consequences would go. They shook themselves out of their thoughts and turned their gaze to the other occupant of the room. They had fared far worse than Sam and Lucifer had with their union.

The evidence of their power had burned Toni’s eyes out of her head. The trail of bloody, sticky tears down her face from the ruin of her eyes was a delightful evidence of that. They smile at it, despite the slight shock of guilt they finally identified as coming from the Sam half of themselves. A distinction that helps give some anchor as they move to crouch before Toni’s whimpering form.

“Oh, Toni,” They tut. Reaching out to caress her cheek in a cruel mockery of the touch they had given themselves, turning the tears into a bloody smear. When she lashes out blindly to bury a blade in their arm, they only laugh. “You shouldn’t have done that.” They grab the questing arm as they speak to press it slowly back and back as she struggles until it cracks and makes Toni shriek and writhe before them.

Now that’s all you, Sam mutters from within them.

She hurt you, Sam, Lucifer counters.

So did you.

Lucifer’s grace recoils at that. Filled with an apology he doesn’t know how to voice; he’d lived that pain too, understood it in a way he never had before. Their union wobbles, a fracture forming between them, all sickly edges and painful recriminations. It’s a horrifying sensation, and they push towards each other again, healing the breach, a shaky breath escaping them as they order their thoughts again. To part feels horrifying, they’ve lived too much of each other, the wounds too new and old all at once.

Never again, Lucifer’s voice has a tenderness Sam has felt before, but now it resonates through them both as an oath. A staggering gift from a creature such as Lucifer, Never again.

You can’t kill her, Sam manages, unable to deal with the weight of that promise yet. She has information.

Easily taken.

And if you kill her now, we lose a potential bargaining chip, Sam argues.

Their union surges with agreement, settling them further as they both nod in agreement.

“We’re going to keep you nice and safe, Toni,” they say at last, “You’ve kept such good care of us as a house guest, it’s only fair we give you the same service.”

The humour is all Lucifer, if the plan is all Sam. The balance shifts back and forth between them as the situation calls for it. The tightrope becoming easier with each passing second.

“I was right about you. The Men of Letters will never work with a monster like you,” Toni spits. Still struggling against their hold. She had been this whole time; it had been as unimportant as she was. “You won’t survive this, and I’ll tell you nothing.”

With a sigh they rise, dropping that broken wrist to grip her long hair and drag her to her feet. She fights back every step of the way, but there’s no denying the will of an archangel. Let alone whatever Sam and Lucifer have become together.

To Dean, then? Lucifer asks, a deep part of him half-amused at the strange excitement he feels at seeing the man again. Yet it falters at the wave of guilt, shame, and fear that floods from Sam’s side of their mind.

He… how will we explain this? I don’t even understand this. Sam’s thoughts all a whirl and Lucifer pulls closer, their eyes closing as he wraps his grace around the soul part of their union.

Neither of us understand this, Lucifer tries. He hasn’t tried to comfort someone since Gabriel. Hasn’t cared enough since then, I think this is God’s will… Lucifer pauses, and they both feel the flicker of Sam’s memories before them again. I think, this is what my father hoped for.

The bunker, is all Sam can say in reply. His tone hesitant as he opens their eyes to stare at his torturer. If you can ward it so we can’t be invaded again. It was meant to be our home.

Whatever you need, Sam.

Their wings unfurl behind them and they fly into the spheres. A smile flitting onto their face as the farm behind them explodes into shrapnel and fire. Unconcerned about any evidence they might need, revenge filling their mind. They know they can get everything from their unwilling passenger after all. For part of them that seems like the much more entertaining solution and Sam doesn’t have it within himself to fight back on that. His better nature only goes so far.

They land in the map room. Toni near collapsing to the floor within their grip, and ever fighting for release, but it’s like holding onto a troublesome fly. Inconsequential compared to the flare of anger they feel at seeing Sam’s blood on the floor and the banishing sigil on the wall. Burning it away beneath their gaze; boiling it away with their rage until not a trace remains. How dare their home have been violated in such a way. How dare she do any of this.

They drag her through the halls. Ignoring all the vitriol she spouts along the way, the words fading into a buzzing in their mind as they walk a path that seems doubly familiar. They both lived here as Sam. They both lived here as Lucifer, and the duality sends their mind reeling a little. Memories overlaying on each other briefly, and they have to fight it back.

That’s going to get annoying, Sam huffs. And your taste in music leaves a lot to be desired.

I’m the Angel of Music, Sam, Lucifer laughs in pretend hurt, I have the best taste in music.

Sam’s answering laugh warms through them both and keeps them steady as they enter the dungeon. Using their grace to chain Toni up to the ceiling. Ignoring the table, unwilling to let her near any surface she could scribble on at all. The urge to just kill her rising again, but they resist. They won’t. Not yet.

“Do enjoy your stay,” they comment, standing uncomfortably close to their new prisoner, even if she can’t see it.

“You might as well kill me, I’m not going to tell you anything,” Toni spat at them. Her voice wavering from the pain from her still broken wrist now held captive in a manacle.

“It’s good to stay positive,” they smile. The smile widening even as Sam rolls his eyes inside them, they know he finds some amusement in their joint humour. It wouldn’t be happening otherwise.

They close the door on Toni, locking it with an idle flick of their grace before returning more slowly to the library. Hand running over the wall in a smooth glide as they assess the wards, forming a map of them within their mind and evaluating it all. It’s a good web, for humans anyway. The affront from Sam vibrant for a brief moment, even if he has to acknowledge that Lucifer’s suggestions only make sense. Together, they twist the wards into more of the walls and mesh them together to make it impenetrable, breathing grace into it to make the wards into almost a living thing. A sentient sentinel to watch over their home. No more strangers can enter without permission from a resident, uncoerced, open and clear permission. They know well all about how some gain consent; their home must be safe from it.

They sigh as they enter the library to collapse into Sam’s usual seat. Leaning back to stare at the ceiling as they consider their next move. Sam’s first thoughts, both their thoughts, had been of Dean. Yet now, fear restrained them still.

You have to try Sam. Lucifer’s tone that same tenderness that leaves Sam adrift. He wants to disbelieve it, build up his walls again, but mainly wonders if he only feels that way because he feels he should feel that way. The understanding, silent air he gets from Lucifer only makes the confusion worse. They can’t hide anything from either of themselves like this. Their hand rises, a sudden weight filling it. A phone present in his grip before Sam even realized they had both willed it into being. The use of grace a strange mixture of foreign and so comfortably familiar. They dial the number with shaking fingers, the balance precarious again as Lucifer tries to take a step back. A comforting weight right behind Sam’s soul. It feels uncomfortable, but this has to be all Sam. Dean would know. They know Dean too well to think otherwise.

The ringing sounds loud in their ear as they wait. The seconds stretch out uncomfortably far as they wait for him to pick up.

“Yes?” The gruff voice is achingly wonderful to hear, and for a moment, all they feel is relief. Dean. Truly alive.

“De-“ The old nickname falling from them before they can stop it. Startled at the tear they’re forced to wipe away.

“Sammy?” Dean’s tone is all shock and desperation. “Are you okay? We’ve been looking for you. How did you get away? Where are you so we can pick you up?”

“I’m at the bunker, Dean,” Sam assures him. Every time he speaks, they speak, in the singular feels wrong though, but he/they persist. They have to, “I got help getting away. I’m safe. I’m alright. Come home? There’s a lot that’s happened I can’t explain over the phone, but I’m safe, Dean.”

“What do you mean you got help?” Dean asks, obviously continuing to worry, and Sam didn’t expect otherwise.

“A friend helped me. Just come home, Dean. Please?” Sam asks, before a jolt of need passes through them. “Is… Is Castiel there with you?”

“Yes, Sam. He’s here, he’s alright too. Worried about you, of course,” Dean’s voice a little calmer by degrees. “We’re heading to Baby now. We’ll be back in… a few hours. Talk when we get back, Sam. I’m glad you’re alright.”

Dean hangs up before Sam can comment, running from any moment where he has to focus on his emotions. It makes Sam smile, finger running over the edge of the phone before he collapses back into Lucifer. They almost shudder in relief as they merge once more.

In the quiet of the library they turn their gaze back to the ceiling. How are they going to explain this? Will anyone believe what’s happening? They can’t see Dean believing anything that comes out of their mouth, as soon as Castiel tells Dean there’s an angel in Sam, and who it is... Dean will think everything coming out of his mouth is just Lucifer.

I could summon a white suit if you want to complete the picture. Lucifer comments with a coldly amusing aside. I was always going to put you in white.

That isn’t helping, Sam scolds. Even if the badly given humour had broken through the cycle of worry they were falling into. Yet neither truly knew how they were going to approach this. There was no way to tell Dean that wouldn’t lead to a lot of shouting, probably shooting, and maybe a sigil or two. It wasn’t going to be pleasant, and neither wanted their brothers to be against them. It was an impossible quandry they could see no solution to and after finding such peace together it was a rather disappointing thought.

In the quiet of the library the sound of something landing with a thump onto the table is uncomfortably loud. Even more so with the wards they had just made, as nothing should have been able to reach them. It is only reluctantly that they turn their gaze to the intrusion. Only to freeze in place.

There on the table before them is Lucifer’s first Vessel.

Its eyes are closed, and the body is obviously vacant of even a soul. Dressed in the same jeans and shirt that were very familiar to both of them.

“What?” They can’t help but exclaim, the chair toppling to the floor as they jerk up and reach out to touch it. Inspecting it with grace to every inch of it, but it’s just a body. Different than before though; reinforced, empty and with sigils wrapped throughout it that will make it Lucifer’s and Lucifer’s alone. It’s an impossible thing that only one person in the universe could have given them. The shock is almost blinding at its depth, but not as blinding as the vision that drives them to their knees. The words of God suddenly ringing through their form.

It is a gift. You have both chosen the harder path and I could not be more proud. You have become what I always wished my angels would be with humans, but now never can be. Except for you. The bond you have is unique, and while this gift will allow it to stretch, it can never be broken. I could not heal you on your own, but together, I hope you find a peace I could not give you. I have but two requests of you; heal your family and save your brother. You did not kill him, Lucifer. Save him, he would not want my help. Go with my blessing, Lucifer, Sam… and my love.

The link cuts off and they collapse completely to the floor. Crying out their grief and joy out onto the cold surface beneath them. It’s too much. So much more than the empty words of an apology from a being they thought didn’t truly care. It’s a purpose after eons of loneliness, the return of a gaze they had thought lost forever, and it’s overwhelming. Redemption was something they had both thought impossible. It’s not a perfect cure. They know they have much to talk about yet, but now there is time. It’s a bolstering thought, and they stagger to their feet. Wiping away the tears with a forceful hand, hating the weakness as much as they had loved the release. Leaning over the vessel, no, the body, that was now so much a symbol of so much more.

Don’t leave, Sam whispers. The words escaped him before he could help it. Soul shivering in their combined form at the worry of going back to what they once were, that it would return them to old routines he doesn’t want and fears.

Trust my father, Sam, Lucifer soothes him, leaning them down towards that familiar form. We will be fine.

Hands reaching to cup that face before him, Lucifer pulls slowly free and slips inside that form, forcing himself to ignore the ache that every mote of distance from Sam gives him. The light flares bright in that room as he settles within that new body, yet feeling the thrum of the bond remaining with Sam still. Lucifer can feel every change that has taken it from ticking time bomb to as comfortable as Sam had been before, but not as right as Sam is now. It is enough. For a moment, he takes stock of the new breathing, a heart that beats entirely for himself and limbs that feel human even while his grace reinforces them. Being Sam has given him the knowledge of how a body should feel. It no longer feels like a cramped, forced prison.

The quiet sounds of distress bring his gaze up to Sam then, sitting up in sudden worry at seeing Sam hunched over and curling around himself. His brow furrowed as he saw that pain on Sam’s face. He reaches out to touch Sam’s shoulder and his frown deepens as Sam flinches away. He reaches into that bond and feels the yawning emptiness that suddenly fills the human. Lucifer is so much larger than any human soul could be, no matter how much of himself had been left behind.

“Sam,” Lucifer said softly, slipping from the table to approach the man. Pulling Sam into his hold, even as Sam halfheartedly struggles, he knows Sam doesn’t mean it. “Sam, I’m right here. Feel for me, Sam. I’m still there.” Lucifer pulls at the thread of the bond between them and smiles as Sam gives a soft gasp and brings his arms up in turn. Clinging to Lucifer in turn as the bond shivers between them.

Sam knows he’s going to feel embarrassed for this later, but the raw emptiness he feels at Lucifer’s sudden absence and the tumult of the past few days has left him shaken. At least Dean will never know. The thought gives him comfort even as he holds to Lucifer, before the emptiness in his head suddenly feels stifling. Yet full control of his body is a much-needed feeling after too many possessions. That he wants Lucifer back inside him already is something he is unwilling to process right now. Even as he craves it.

“At least this will make things easier to explain,” Sam manages. His voice muffled from where his head rests on Lucifer’s shoulder.

“Yes. We can just blame this all on my father. How convenient,” Lucifer’s tone unnaturally light, and Sam knows Lucifer has to be worrying about him. Can feel it rolling into him, but doesn’t know how to reach out. It’s like staring at water you can’t drink.

“How do I reach back?” Sam asks.

“It’s like learning to fly,” Lucifer explains, amusement colouring his tone again as he knows Sam remembers learning that now, “Just how you would stretch out your wings, stretch out your soul towards me. I’m right here, Sam. Find me.”

Sam follows those instructions, reaching out hesitantly. Unsure of his movements. His soul, despite his once abilities, is like a newborn at these new abilities. Twisting with newfound mobility and finding that link. Like a door flung wide, Lucifer is there against him once more, spilling out into the void that had filled him just enough to be present, if not entirely with him. It’s like cold water against a burn, soothing a pain he didn’t know he had.

There you are, Sam sighs out within his mind.

I never left, Lucifer assures him, smiling a little at Sam’s sudden startled tension in his hold before he relaxes again.

“Are you going to hear everything I think if we stay like this?” Sam asks. It’s an uncomfortable thought. As much as there’s no hiding between them, some privacy is nice to any human. Especially one that had his own violated too many times.

“No, Sam,” Lucifer assures him, “Only if you think at me, and the same for mine in turn. You saw the sigils on this body, enough to give me a separate place to be and to give us just enough to keep us individual until we wish to be otherwise. My father’s way of ensuring we still have choice, I believe.”

“This is a very odd apology.” Sam’s sigh is heartfelt, and he draws back to pick up the chair before collapsing back into it.

“My father does like to turn everything into a test.” Lucifer agrees, making no attempt to stop Sam. Instead, slipping back to sit on the edge of the table as he watches him intently, feet rising to rest on both arms of the chair as Sam settles himself. Lucifer can’t help a smile as one of Sam’s hands shifts to slip beneath the bottom hem of his jeans to rest against his leg. Neither wants to be too far from the other for now.

“He knew I’d be tortured,” Sam says bluntly, unable to raise his eyes to meet Lucifer’s for a moment, but the hand to his chin that tilts his face up, in a strange shadow of that time in the cellar earlier, pulls his gaze up to meet those startling blue eyes above.

“It’s best not to think of it, Sam,” Lucifer said, “Trying to discern what my father knows or doesn’t know will drive you insane. I’ve tried to work it out since the moment of my creation, you know that. I saved you, and he has given us a way out of it all. Just focus on that. We will make sure things stay better together. You know neither of us will squander the opportunity.”

“You’re right,” Sam nods. It almost feels like a novelty to be able to agree with Lucifer so readily. To feel so safe doing so. His soul warms at the gratitude and smugness that floats through it from Lucifer. “What about our house guest?”

“Now you don’t need to see it, I can tear her apart and get every secret out of her I wish,” Lucifer comments. It’s still unnerving how blandly he can say it. It's like he's talking about the weather. “Unless you want to kill her yourself, of course. Though I am tempted to hand her over to Crowley as an eternally kept present.”

“Crowley, really?” Sam is startled out of his musing on how he’s going to act as a break to Lucifer’s violent tendencies, while not being entirely against anything he’s suggested.

“What? I’m coming around to him being my regent.”

“I’m not sure if he’ll love you or hate you even more for that.”

Lucifer’s eyes gleam red in the bunker as he smirks down at Sam.

“I know, that’s what will make it so entertaining to do.”

Chapter Text

After their brief conversation, Sam and Lucifer had drifted into a deep, if comfortable silence. Both had a lot to process. Now they were somewhat separated the discordancy of living two lives played out for both of them. Stronger, foreign memories were trying to find new homes within their own lived lives, adding an uncanny feeling to even their own well-trodden thoughts that made everything seem new again.

The greatest trouble Sam had was staring down the memories of the cage as both the torturer and the tortured. It adds an understanding that would threaten to spill over into added trauma if it weren’t for Lucifer’s most recent oath to never harm him again, and the intimate feeling of just how guilty Lucifer felt now. It should have felt harder to forgive him. Sam really wanted it to be harder to forgive him on some level, but the eons of memories that had led Lucifer to do it were a powerful weight in changing his mind. He’d forgiven Dean for things that the mark had made him do; perhaps it was best to proscribe this to the same thing. It was that or go mad, rallying against the bond that twisted through both of them. Going mad once in his life was quite enough.

Lucifer was stuck in his own turmoil. Hating humanity and its destruction had been his goal for so long that it was hard to tell who he was without it. Having Sam and the requests from his father helped in some way to patch over that sudden emptiness, but it also came with a sense of twisted irony. It was hard not to think that being back in his father’s good graces was a lot like capitulation, but he supposed having Sam so completely out of the deal wasn’t so bad. They’d reached an understanding he’d never expected, and if humanity had to be part of the package in keeping Sam happy? Well, alright then. Sam’s life had shown him that they weren’t all bad. Mostly. Some of the time. It was a work in progress.

Lucifer’s thoughts were racing on so many pathways because he was trying hard not to think too closely about the second part of his father’s requests. It was clear who Chuck had meant. Gabriel. Lucifer fought back a shudder and the wave of guilt even thinking the name brought him now. Remembering all too clearly how it had felt to put that blade through the body of his favourite brother. He caught Sam’s attention with that, though, those eyes looking at him with a concern he didn’t deserve as that hand tightened on his leg.

"Thinking about, Gabriel?” Sam asks, the bond so complete that there was no true way for either of them to hide their emotions from the other. Made into open books by the union.

“He must hate me,” Lucifer sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his legs and hanging his head low. Invading more of the space between them as he did so. “And what did my father mean, save him? From what? To give us so little information…”

“At least we know we have to do something,” Sam says. Weighing his next words before adding, “And coming from a younger brother whose older brother did try to kill him. I don’t think he’ll hate you at all.”

“The codependency of Winchesters,” Lucifer snorts in return, but there’s no heat to it. His tone was more grateful than anything.

They fall silent again. Uncertain what more there is to be done for Gabriel yet. There’s research to be done, people to find, certainly, but nothing can happen until they’ve spoken to their brothers. The minutes stretch out, filled with anxious expectation for what is to come. Neither of them has ever done well with hope, ever used to it being crushed, and to have the feel of it now only adds to their concern.

“What has this bond done to my soul?” Sam asks at last. He fears the answer; he hadn’t really wanted to give voice to the thought, but he has to know. Has to have some answer before Castiel sees it. He’d like to go through one revelation without some hurtful comment coming from left field.

“A bond is perhaps a simplistic way of talking about it,” Lucifer says at last, shifting up enough to look Sam in the eyes once more. “Whatever the Men of Letters used, plus your previous damage to your soul and my torn-up grace, acted as a catalyst for us to blend together. You know how it felt, we weren’t just together, we were actually one.”

Sam nods at this, his heart tightening a little in his chest at the words. The whispering desire to be one again curling through them both.

“Well,” Lucifer continues, “from what I can see and how it felt, we shared physical pieces of ourselves with each other. I hold pieces of your soul now, and you have pieces of my grace, but so tightly wound together that it was like they were always meant to be there. A full integration. We filled up the damage in each other rather completely. So, I’m a little bit human now and you’re a little bit angel.”

“A little bit angel,” Sam repeats, his tone flat. “Well, I suppose it’s better than the demon blood. What’s going to happen to me?”

“I have no idea, Sam,” Lucifer says, tone reluctant. Reaching out to capture Sam’s hands as the human goes to hang his head to squeeze them gently, “But you won’t be alone in this, and like I said before, we need to trust in my father.”

“Still unnerving hearing you say that,” Sam manages, his voice shaken, but he seems more secure than he was. At least to not fall apart immediately about it all.

“You and me both,” Lucifer agrees, still holding on to Sam’s hands and obviously unwilling to let them go for now. Trying to give Sam an anchor in the present and not in his worries.

Silence falls once more as their thoughts turn inward. Both trying to politely ignore the emotions rolling off each other as they both worked through the tumults of the day. Trying to right their own minds and solidify this new reality between them both. It's a hard thing for them both. 

The sound of the Bunker door swinging open breaks them from their reverie. Sam’s hands twitching out of Lucifer’s as he rises, the archangel close on his heels as he heads towards the library exit into the Map room. Pausing near the stairs down to look up towards the entrance where, joy of joys, Dean and Castiel were making their way down towards them. All worry momentarily burnt away at the sight of his brother alive and well alongside the angel that had become such a dear friend. It returns quickly, though, as Dean and Castiel come to a hesitant stop at the sight of the figure looming at Sam’s back.

“When you said you had help, Sammy, I didn’t think you meant him. I’m not sure he qualifies,” Dean manages at last. His hand resting on his gun, if not actually drawing it.

“He did rescue me, Dean. Turns out the Men of Letters aren’t as dead as we thought, and someone who works for them kidnapped me, wanted to know all about us, and other hunters. Then tortured me when I didn’t want to answer their questions,” Sam explained, trying not to look at Castiel as the angel’s head tilted slightly to one side. That piercing gaze flicked back and forth from Sam to Lucifer before his eyes widened slowly.

“Sam, what did you do to escape?” Castiel asks, voice cutting over whatever Dean had been about to say. The gruff hunter turned to look at him before looking back to Sam with growing suspicion.

“Sammy?”

“I only did what Chuck asked me to do,” Sam tries. Why is it he can never find the words to defend himself when he needs to sometimes? Only really finding what he needs to say when taken to the very edge. They’re the two people he never wants to disappoint, and every time it comes to a conversation like this, it is crushing. He can easily see from the expressions dawning on the faces before him that things are swiftly falling from awkward to dangerous.

“In Sam’s defense, the Men of Letters had filled him with so many drugs I doubt anyone could have held out,” Lucifer cuts in. His tone firm as he steps that bit closer to Sam to rest a comforting hand on the small of his back. “Sam, though, would have managed even through all that if my father hadn’t asked him to say yes to me. As you can see, it was temporary, and now Sam is safe.”

“He’s hardly safe with you here,” Dean says, tone gruff as he steps a little closer. Hand tightening on a gun he already knows will be useless as his other hand rises in accusation towards Lucifer.

“What I can see between you is hardly temporary,” Castiel says, his deep voice silencing Dean but evidently only making his rage worse as he spares Castiel only enough attention to find out exactly why he should be angry before he acts.

“Another gift the Men of Letters and my father left us,” Lucifer retorts, his hand warming on Sam’s back as he releases a soothing pulse of his grace into the trembling body beneath. Trying to ease some of the devastation and guilt Sam is feeling. Neither are things Lucifer is used to or happy feeling, and it only makes him more determined to end this. “Neither of us planned for this to happen; there’s no changing it, and my father was very clear about the fact that it was permanent when he gave me this body. If you looked properly, Castiel, you would see that.”

Castiel rears back a little in obvious affront for a second before he focuses more fully on Lucifer, his gaze drawn away from the strange writhing colours that now made up Sam’s soul and Lucifer’s grace. A blending that should have been impossible. What he does finally see within Lucifer’s vessel makes him gasp, reaching out to rest a hand on Dean’s shoulder and pull him back a little.

“He’s telling the truth, Dean. The word of God is written all the way through Lucifer’s vessel.”

“My body, please,” Lucifer adds, trying not to sound too offended even as his free hand rises with index finger pointed up to emphasize his point.

Lucifer’s words only bring that look of confusion to Castiel’s face again, and even Dean looks startled. After a moment, Dean manages a hesitant swallow before turning his gaze solidly to Sam. Taking in his brother’s expression properly for the first time. Dean knows his brother's expressions all too well and this one isn't good.

“What do you mean, Chuck did this?” Dean asks, forcing his anger aside as he tries to understand. Trying to keep his tone calmer. “I need you to explain this to me, Sammy.”

“He wanted to heal us and both of us were too damaged to heal apart. After what happened,” Sam glances back to Lucifer for a moment and misses the surprised looks from their watchers as Lucifer’s expression is one of brief but obvious guilt before turning gently encouraging for Sam. “I think Chuck was right. He told us this was what he had always wanted the union between Angels and humans to be. That we can forge a better path this way, even if it is a harder path to take. He wants us to help fix a few things. I think this way he puts his pen down.”

“So, no more lingering damage from the Trials?” Dean asks and, when Sam gives him a shake of the head, gestures at Lucifer and adds, “No more damage from what he put you through?”

“No, Dean.”

“Well then, looks like we’re going to have to get used to you being around again. Though if you hurt him, I will find a way to fix this,” Dean says, giving Lucifer a warning look before stepping closer to wrap Sam into his arms.

Dean nearly staggers back as Sam takes those few steps down to collapse gratefully into his hold. The tightness of Sam’s arms about him shows how much Sam must have grieved him in that time apart. Dean doesn’t doubt that it was probably worse than anything else his captors might have done to him. It’s that which has him drawing back to look his brother over carefully, hands still resting on Sam’s shoulders. Checking him for any ghost of the injuries he must have had before Lucifer healed him of them. Dean has never thought he’d see his brother again, either, and the reunion is everything.

“What are we going to do about your kidnappers?” Dean finally adds as he takes a reluctant step back from his brother. Yet also needing the space to steady himself as much as Sam seems to need it as well.

“Oh, we have one in the dungeon. I have plans.” Lucifer’s tone is overly cheerful as he smiles at Dean’s startled expression. The archangel’s hands had retreated to his pockets as Sam had moved from his side. Their gazes meet, assessing each other, and it’s a telling testament to the past few days that Dean finally answers him with a nod.

“Good. No one gets to do that to family,” Dean’s tone is firm; it’s a mantra he’s lived by since he was four years old. Family was Sammy, would always be Sammy.

“I quite agree,” Lucifer replies, his smile turning more into a smirk as he can see the confusion on Dean’s face at having anything in common with him. Lucifer’s pleased to be making some headway with him, but it’s still entertaining.

“Well, we have a shock of our own,” Dean adds after one awkward pause, “Though I’d like to know why they couldn’t come in with us.”

“Yes, I’d like to know why it felt like the bunker was watching me. It was most unsettling.” Castiel says, his gaze still slightly suspicious about events, as it stays on Lucifer.

“We upgraded the wards,” Sam and Lucifer reply at the same time, and they share a look of amusement at it.

“Okay, that’s not weird,” Dean says, his tone highly sarcastic as he looks between them both. “If you’re going to do that often, tell me now so I can gag one of you.”

Your brother, Lucifer's words in Sam’s head coming with the feeling of Lucifer waving a hand towards Dean, You take this.

You’re just easily frustrated. Sam retorts.

Your point? Lucifer’s tone was all huffed disgust, and Sam couldn’t help but grin. It’s so similar to Lucifer’s past attitude, but without the threatening edge that used to make him so scared all the time.

“It’s new to us as well, Dean. We’ll get there-“

Maybe, Lucifer adds with amusement in Sam’s head. So clearly attempting to derail him for his own entertainment.

“- Anyway. We looked at the wards, and they were good, but they were geared to the Men of Letters, which is now a problem. So now they’re not. We added some new ones and reset them back to just us four, and no one can get in without our clear express consent. It can’t be forced, the wards would know because we,” Sam pauses before adding the part he’s sure to get his brother going again, “Well, we made them sentient.”

“You gave us a guard dog?” Dean says in reply, before his smile widens. “Cool, and we don’t have to feed it… We don’t have to feed it, right?”

“No, Dean, the wards don’t need feeding,” Sam replied, uncertain whether to laugh at Dean’s response or huff in frustration at Dean’s analogy.

“Cool, so how do we let someone in? There a magic word or anything?” Dean asks.

“You just need to tell them they can come in.”

“I’ll go do that,” Dean grins, bounding back towards the stairs and up towards the exit. Pausing to grin down at a confused-looking Sam, “I think you’re going to love this, Sammy.”

“What-“ But Dean is gone before Sam can say any more.

“I think you should prepare yourself, Sam,” Castiel says, tone serious, taking a cautious few steps towards his friend.

“Why? Who would be such a shock? We’ve had allies before,” Sam feels a roll of worry curl through him. Castiel’s actions just don’t match with Dean, and none of this is making sense. It gets worse as Lucifer’s head jolts up towards the entrance, hand reaching to tighten fiercely on Sam’s shoulder.

“Sam…” Lucifer’s tone is careful, and Sam looks between the two angels in growing confusion. Then he sees the face of the person coming in with Dean. The hauntingly familiar face and eyes he’d only seen in scant pictures stared down at him as she entered. He doesn’t even see Dean beaming at her side, finally caught in the delight of having his mum back. Enjoying the moment. All Sam can see is her. The ghost of his childhood.

It’s his mom.

 “Hi, Sam,” Mary says, smiling at him. Taking him in with an intense gaze as if drinking in every inch of his appearance, adding with a shaky laugh, “You’ve grown.”

“Mom!” Sam’s across and wrapping his arms around her in a hug before he’s even aware of it. Burying his head into her shoulder as her own arms wrap back around him in turn. She’s reliably solid in his hold, the moment only made even stranger by Lucifer’s quiet reassurance that this is indeed his mother in his mind. She was the goal and reason for so much of their life, and now she’s here. It’s almost impossible to believe. It’s only reluctantly that Sam pulls back, but he needs more information.

“Amara thought we deserved a thank you,” Dean explained, giving them both a smile of his own.

…

The only word for the evening afterward could be interesting. Lucifer had found some amusement in watching Mary’s reaction to who he was, unable to avoid giving her one of his trademark smirks as his eyes flashed red for a moment. Only to receive an eye roll from Sam and a mental sigh of his name that was so exasperated with him that it had been more than worth it. It was less worth it when Mary had reflexively shot him in the face. It had hurt, and for a moment the urge to strike out in revenge was there deep within his grace, but then the brothers, even Castiel, laughed at the expression on his face, and it faded. It had been funny enough to see the warring emotions across Mary’s face.

Besides, she was probably only going to shoot him again after learning about the attempted Apocalypse and… other things. Perhaps it was best to get one shot out of the way as a freebie to make the next time less likely.

Some of the awkwardness had faded after that. Lucifer was only half paying attention to the conversation in the kitchen as he watched Dean cook. It had never been even remotely interesting to him before. Now though, it was overlaid with Sam’s memories that felt as real to him as his own. A mess of microwaves and strange concoctions in motel rooms across the country. It’s burgers today, and he knows that it’s one of Dean’s favourite recipes; Dean is quietly celebrating the return of his family. The warmth of knowing that is a deep surprise, and Lucifer knows he’s been irrevocably changed with his bond with Sam. All too evident as both had reached out with one leg beneath the table to have some connection. He’s brought out of his thoughts by Dean as a plate is placed before him as well.

“Here,” Dean’s tone is still distant, quickly gone to sit by Castiel with a burger of his own. Dean does catch Lucifer’s slight nod in acknowledgement. He’s not sure if he’s entirely thankful for the burger, though. He’s never actually eaten himself before.

Lucifer looks up at Sam’s deep amusement. Finding Sam’s gaze fixed entirely on him, elbows on the table, and head resting on his hands.

“What?” Lucifer hisses, attempting to add some heat to his tone, but Sam has a direct line to his real emotions, and instead of withdrawing, Sam only raises his eyebrows in challenge. Both of them ignoring the others at the table watching them interact like some terrifying tennis match.

When we find Gabriel, I’m going to tell him that you were scared of trying a burger. Sam’s tone is entirely taunting and filled with promise.

Lucifer growls softly at Sam before reaching for the burger. Staring Sam down as he forces himself to take a bite, chewing at it brusquely. Then he truly registers the taste. It’s delicious, and he has an understanding of that word personally for the first time. Experience it as Sam was one thing, but this is live and in person. Breaking eye contact with Sam to close his eyes to truly appreciate everything he’s experiencing. He’d already lost if the self-satisfied air from Sam was anything to go by.

“Dean, you’re a genius.” Lucifer concedes, not looking at the man before taking another bite. Dean’s choked sound of surprise some balm to this whole event.

“Okay, Sam. You can keep him.” Dean says, and his tone is a lot more relaxed than it has been all day. Lucifer decides that deserves a middle finger. Ignoring everyone at the table as he goes back to his meal, Sam’s happiness and relief at it all curl through his grace and despite himself. Lucifer is content.

…

The contentment follows Lucifer all the way until Sam has to sleep. Sam’s hand stopping him from following him into Sam’s room, a barrier he hadn’t quite expected. Lucifer looks down pointedly at that hand and back up at Sam’s guarded expression.

“I need to be alone tonight, Lucifer.” Sam’s voice was quiet but firm, as if expecting Lucifer to fight him on this. “I will not sleep with a watcher.”

“Alright,” Lucifer says instead, deliberately taking a step back as he does so. “I don’t need to sleep anyway. This gives me a chance to talk to Castiel.”

Sam huffs a breath at that, the tension easing from his frame.

“Okay then,” Sam nods, moving to close the door, “Goodnight, Lucifer.”

“Goodnight, Sam,” Lucifer murmurs to the wood of the door. Resting a hand on it at the feel of the bond between them already stretching, but he forces himself to turn and walk away. He feels Sam’s gratitude for his easy acceptance, even as he walked into the library, and knows Sam can feel his reassurance in turn. Sinking into Sam’s chair and the ghost of all those memories of long nights of research as a poor secondary option to being with Sam himself.

It’s hard, though; it would be so easy to take what he wants right now. He doesn’t want to feel the bond pull at him. His grace and soul wants to be with their counterparts in Sam. Yet that would break Sam’s new and fragile trust in him and he knows all too well how much any trust from Sam now is an unbelievable gift. He won’t break it. He’s done enough breaking of Sam in his time. Oh yes, he could blame the mark. A lot was the mark’s effects but it worked by enhancing the possibilities of what was already there. It’s a maddening depth of introspection that has him drumming his fingers against the table by Sam’s laptop.

He had a whole night ahead of him with this frustration. Joyful.

Lucifer narrows his eyes at the laptop as if could possibly have any answer to his quandary at all before his drumming paused. Perhaps it did after all. Sam had been working on cataloguing the library and creating a database of information he could always have on hand and share with other hunters if he wished. Slowed by Sam’s limited number of languages and the esoteric nature of some of the Men of Letter’s books. Standing he goes to Sam’s most recent shelf of progress and empties it of books. Setting up his space exactly as Sam had before booting up the laptop. At least this would fill a few hours.

...

It was like this that Castiel found him just over an hour later. Lucifer’s feet up on the table and laptop balanced precariously on his lap as he types. The books in more chaotic piles about him as he flips through the one hovering in the air to one side. Castiel can’t help but pause in the door way to the library, the sight one that baffled him. Continuing on he sinks into the chair opposite Lucifer and watches the archangel continue his typing without truly acknowledging him beyond a nod of welcome.

The silence stretches long but Castiel has questions. Sam is too much a friend to not ensure his safety, even if what he had seen was a miracle beyond anything he could truly believe. It’s hard to think the God he had seen had actually done something to help.

“Why did you go in search of Sam, really?” Castiel asks, breaking the silence.

“He prayed to me,” Lucifer replies, not pausing in his typing and with an easy air of honesty that surprises Castiel. “Not intentionally, but it was filled with pain and I was worried.”

“You worried?” Castiel says, “Forgive me, but I find that hard to believe.”

“I don’t blame you, brother,” Lucifer says, continuing on in that relaxed manner. His typing stilling then before Castiel is caught in that unsettling gaze. Lucifer feels more powerful than any Archangel Castiel had been in the presence of before; it’s even more unsettling than it had been when that power had flooded into his vessel. “Living through Sam’s memories certainly gives an unsettling experience.”

“You lived Sam’s memories?!” Castiel can’t hide the shock. Angel’s always had access to the memories of their vessel, but it’s a bland trawling of information and events. What Lucifer is describing? It’s no wonder why Lucifer and Sam were so changed. Castiel looks deeper at Lucifer’s grace and the swirling colours that are so unusual and so impossible. He hadn’t known what he had been looking at before, but Lucifer’s words have given him much needed context. Grace and soul danced before his gaze. “That should have killed you both.”

“Our father works in mysterious ways,” Lucifer jokes, his tone filled with sarcasm even as he gives a self-depreciating smile. Castiel finds he can’t find stable ground around his brother. Familiarity and such strangeness at war. Ancient memories half forgotten reminding him of those so early days in heaven. Was this who Lucifer had been? It’s hard to know.

Castiel stills then though as Lucifer’s gaze narrows at him. Feeling that grace he has no hope of fighting inspecting his true form. It’s uncomfortable, and after so long without his family truly caring about him and with so few angels left, it feels invasive.

“I also think I understand our father’s request of me now,” Lucifer comments and Castiel can’t help a flinch as the Archangel is suddenly perched on the table in front of him.

“What did he ask of you?” Castiel asks. Forcing himself to still. He’s faced down archangel’s before and refuses to react any differently in front of Lucifer. Trusting in Sam and Sam’s belief that change had happened. The Winchesters had been his guiding light for so long he wouldn’t turn from it now.

“To find my brother and save him,” Lucifer says, and Castiel find’s himself startled again at Lucifer’s easy offer of information, “And to heal my family. With what I can see of your grace I think I understand now. There’s information in my head that wasn’t there before. Take my hand, brother.”

Lucifer extends a hand to him and Castiel, believing in the Winchesters more than any request of God’s now, take it because he knows that Sam would have wanted him to.

The library sings with the sudden outpouring of grace. Lucifer shifting to his feet as Castiel twitches in the chair, never relinquishing his grip of his brother as he drowns Castiel in his grace. Lighting the smaller angel up as the great shadows of wings stretched out behind his brother to flare wide as feathers restored themselves to a sudden glory. Castiel can’t speak on any level of his being as Lucifer, his brother, brings life back into his grace. Breathing life back into the fractured embers of his being with whispers of apologies that could never be given in words with every brush of grace against his own. Castiel can barely focus. He’s been so used to being without so much of himself for so long that the return to truly being a Seraph is overwhelming. Only the surprising feel of tears falling from his eyes brings him out of his stupor to find Lucifer crouched at his side and still holding to his hand.

“Thank you,” Castiel’s voice deeper and more emotion-filled than it had been before. Rocked with the relief of being truly himself once more and just who he had to thank for that.

“You’re welcome, Castiel,” Lucifer says, rising to return to the work he was doing for Sam. “We are family after all.”

Castiel watches Lucifer just return to his work without any fanfare. Yet one of Lucifer’s great wings still reaches round to rest protectively against his own. Perhaps, Castiel ponders as he watches Lucifer type on into the night, there is hope for them to be family after all.

Chapter Text

The morning dawned too early for Sam, and for a moment, he just wanted to pull the sheets over his head and forget the always-long list of things there was to do. After all he had been through in the past few days, he had thought he would have slept badly. Instead, he had slept like a rock. In fact, he’d slept so heavily he hadn’t felt the deep ache the distance from Lucifer had gained him until he’d swung his legs over the side of the bed to rub the sleep out of his eyes. It was uncomfortable. A line stretched taut between them, but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be pushed past. That they could gain some distance was a comfort he hadn’t thought he’d have wanted in those so empty moments after Lucifer had pulled out of him yesterday. To know he had it now, though, helped settle some of the insecurities this whole situation had given him. His all too understandable scepticism adding a veneer of nervousness to the whole thing. Even if most of him just wanted to accept it.

It was a wild thought that someone who had done so much to him was now someone every cell of his body wanted to trust implicitly. Some part of him still couldn’t quite believe it; he was a seasoned hunter after all, and so he had provoked the archangel just a little to see if he could crack a facade. It was foolish, the union between them had taken all affectation and secrecy from them both. Sam wasn’t about to drop a habit that had kept him alive for so long. Even living for eons as Lucifer in a moment had done nothing to change that, but then Sam knew he’d always been stubborn.

Still caught in his thoughts, Sam shuffles towards the kitchen. Foregoing his run for the greater need of coffee after such a heavy sleep. He can feel the bond trying to guide him to the library where he knew Lucifer had to be, and part of him wants nothing more than to follow it. Perhaps after coffee, when he feels more alive. So, he continues on to the kitchen instead. Following the scent cooking that shows he’s not the first human awake in the bunker.

The kitchen only contains Dean, which Sam is grateful for needing a few moments more before his mother joins them. His brother stood cooking bacon, eggs, and pancakes on the stove. They share a slight nod as Sam crosses to the coffee maker and starts it percolating a blend that Dean calls overly fancy and yet steals the most of whenever Sam makes a pot. Sam gazing off into the middle distance at the bottom of his mug, and trying not to focus on the tough conversations today is going to have with that woman in their dungeon and their mother back from the dead. What even was their life?

He barely registers the soft footfalls in the kitchen, even as the bond eases by quick degree. Then arms wrap around Sam’s waist to hold him tightly, Lucifer’s body heat a warm line against his back as his head comes to rest on his shoulder. Their soul and grace were jubilant for one bright second before settling into deep contentment. It doesn’t stop Sam from giving Lucifer a look as one hand worms its way beneath his sleep shirt. Totally not invasive at all. He’s been the focus of Lucifer’s attention in many less pleasant ways; it’s apparently going to be just as consuming when benevolent.

Good morning, Lucifer’s mental tone all smug pleasure in Sam’s mind. Forcing a shocked breath out of Sam as he tries to step even closer to press Sam against the counter. Closing as much of the distance between them as he can while they’re still apart.

Morning, Sam tries, glancing down at the offending arms before adding, Do you mind?

Not at all. Somehow, Lucifer manages to sound even cockier. It makes Sam’s eye twitch, even if he can’t help an exasperated smile. It’s all too clear how much he’s been missed while he’s slept.

You’re impossible.

One of my best features.

Sam can even feel the smirk that must be on Lucifer’s face, and he shakes his own with another sigh. Rolling his eyes at Lucifer’s antics, even as he reaches for an extra mug.

I can see why you and Gabriel were so close, Sam‘s tone playfully flippant, but it is true. Without the mark stoking Lucifer’s rage to ridiculous heights, he reminds him of the way the trickster could be at times. They both had that same streak of snarky humour that other angels just didn’t emulate.

“It’s too early for this,” Dean’s gruff tone cuts through their silent conversation. Both turning just enough to stare at him with equal expressions of annoyed confusion. Dean gestures the spatula at them for a moment before turning back to his cooking. “That will never not be weird.”

Dean continues muttering under his breath as Sam pours the finally ready coffee. Lucifer only retreating reluctantly as they head back to the table. Lucifer’s turning his back to the wall as he pulls Sam back against him as they sit. A position that could have been potentially precarious were not one of them an archangel.

I refuse to eat in this position, Sam thinks at Lucifer. Sipping at his coffee as he watches his brother continue to cook. Letting the coffee do its work to clear the fog from his mind.

Hmm, Lucifer’s noncommittal reply was somehow more annoying than any words. With sudden inspiration, Sam flashes him the mental equivalent of a bitch face and sets Lucifer off laughing quietly behind him, his face buried into his shoulder.

“Okay, that’s it,” Dean says, spinning around from the stove to brandish the spatula at them both, “This is freaky enough without you two having silent conversations in the kitchen. You’re banned from doing that in here.”

“You’re just jealous you can’t do that with your own angel,” Lucifer mutters, glaring at Dean over Sam’s shoulder. His voice quiet enough that only Sam hears him, and he has to force back a laugh at the look on Dean’s face.

“What did you say?” Dean takes a step forward, face fierce, “What did he say, Sammy?”

“I have no idea, Dean,” Sam sighs. Deciding it’s too early for this. Returning to drinking his coffee and refusing to pick a side, even as Lucifer’s delight curls through him. Besides, Dean would only act weird for days at any mention of being closer to Castiel. One day, Sam hopes Dean will stop being so scared of what he actually feels.

“Why do I feel it’s just going to be worse now you’re both a team?” Dean says, turning back to flip bacon and continue growing the stack of pancakes with even more annoyance, “and I thought the world was going mad when we found out Chuck had a sister.”

Silence descends in the kitchen at last, and Sam sinks into the warmth from Lucifer and the coffee in his grip. Amusement of his own filling the bond as Lucifer gives in to drinking from his own mug. The angel’s hold just as firm with only one arm around him as two. That same disgruntled enjoyment from Lucifer spilling over to him as  he had felt last night as Lucifer continues to drink. Sam keeps his face carefully blank as Dean places the dishes of food down on the table with a little more force than necessary. His brother can’t help but pause there, looking at them like it’s the strangest thing he’s ever seen, which, considering their life, is quite the achievement. He doesn’t look murderous though, so Sam considers that a win really. 

“I’m going to wake, Mom,” Dean says at last, emphasising his next words by pointing at the both of them, “Behave while I’m gone." Turning to walk away with an added muttered, "God.”

Dean storms out, leaving them alone.

“Your brother’s entertaining in the morning when I’m not trying to kill him,” Lucifer comments, reaching past Sam to place his mug on the table and snag a piece of bacon. Eating it with vague curiosity at the flavour.

"Yes, well. Just don't bring up the Castiel thing again. They'll never get past the awkward staring if you do." Sam sighs. His words only set Lucifer laughing once again.

Breakfast passes in surprising calm. Perhaps helped by Lucifer finally freeing Sam from his grip before the others arrived to eat. Causing more laughter at his disgust at the muesli Sam had prepared for himself. Sam might enjoy it, but it seemed that hadn’t passed on to Lucifer's own tastebuds.

…

An hour later, Lucifer had distracted a freshly washed and fully awake Sam with the work on his database. Leaving the human to delve into the extra information to organise it any further, as he desired. Mary sat listening to her youngest talk over his plans for the database and the hunter network of America. From the expression on Mary’s face, she’s just lost in the joy of seeing her son so happy, especially after such a dramatic return. It let them both pretend that what Lucifer was about to do wasn’t entirely too clear to Sam.

Lucifer pauses to lean against the kitchen entrance as he watches Dean run a cleaning cloth over already sparkling surfaces. Without Sam he’s uncertain how to interact with a man he had such conflicting memories of now, and who only had violent ones about him.

“Something I can help you with?” Dean’s tone already defensive as he pauses to stare down Lucifer.

“As I suspect you don’t want to deal with a dead body today, I figured you would want to aid me in talking to who we dragged home with us,” Lucifer says, running a finger over his bottom lip. A slight smirk forming as Dean assesses his words.

“What’s your plan?”

“Well, what I’d want to do is teach her a lesson in what happens to people who touch Sam, but as he will get feedback of that through me, I’m unwilling to do much there. As much as I’d love to tear her apart, Sam comes first,” Lucifer muses, “As it is, I can get the information from her mind.”

“And why do you need me?”

“I thought you’d like to know what they were going to do him,” Lucifer says, before adding rather unwillingly, “And to stop me from going too far.”

Dean visibly reacts in front of him in shock. Rocking back a little and looking at Lucifer as if he’d never seen him before.

“What?”

“You’ve had the mark, Dean,” Lucifer continues, “You know how insidious it was. That was for just what, a year as well? I had it for eons. It didn’t even truly leave me until Amara ripped me out of Castiel.”

Dean stares at Lucifer with clear horror, and he can see the human thinking it over. Dean’s eyes slowly widening before he sinks back against the kitchen counter. Running a hand over his face as he stares at the wall in vague dismay. Lucifer gives him the time. He honestly feels the same way.

“Shit,” Dean says at last, swallowing hard. “How long did you fight it before…”

“Not long enough, evidently.”

“Damn, sorry, yeah.” Dean’s tone shaken as he looks over Lucifer once again. Reevaluating the archangel. The penny finally dropping as he realises just what Lucifer has come to ask of him. “You want me there to be able to tell you when to stop.” Dean can’t help but scoff then, “And you’ll listen to me?”

“Why not? Sam does.” Lucifer shrugs, even as his words leave Dean staring at him in continued shock, “I have to listen to someone, and I’m certainly not bringing Sam into her presence again. I don’t even appreciate that she’s on the same planet as him. Though I can easily fix that later.”

“What are you going to do to her?”

“I’m going to give her to Crowley as an ‘Aren’t you pleased I’m going to let you keep Hell’ present.” Lucifer’s smirk is a return to familiarity. All cold promise and dark pleasure for one moment. His hands slip into the pockets of his jeans as he turns to head towards the dungeon. Only assuming that Dean is going to follow him, and indeed, a second later Dean is hot on his heels.

“I’m sure he’ll just love you for that,” Dean says, tone sarcastic as he tries to work out what Crowley is going to do. He only hopes he’ll be there to see it.

“Oh, I know how to be convincing,” Lucifer says, still smirking. Dean’s side eye at his words only makes him more amused.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just let Crowley get information from her?” Dean says, and for a second, Lucifer is surprised that Dean seems to be concerned for him. Even if just slightly.

“You trust him to be honest about all of it?” Lucifer asks, glancing at Dean before shaking his head. “Besides, I want some retribution. Have you known any of the archangels to be forgiving?”

“Only one of you that wasn’t a complete dick so far was Gabriel. At least, before you killed him,” Dean says. Lucifer can’t help but wince at that, and he knows Dean sees it. It seems it's a Winchester trait to push his buttons to see how he reacts. Well, why should they change a habit that had worked for them for so long? They did it to everyone he knew. 

Lucifer pauses outside the dungeon, debating on how much to tell Dean because he knows today has already been and will be a lot. The brothers, though, thrive on honesty and destroy each other when they lie or conceal things. He won’t join that cycle even if such open trust pains him. Emotions are so messy to deal with.

“Turns out I didn’t actually kill him,” Lucifer says, smiling at Dean’s surprisingly hopeful expression, but then the Winchesters had too long a trail of people who had died in their name. Any survival is a victory. “My father wants Sam and me to find him. Something has happened to him, but that’s a conversation for another day. Let's talk to our guest.”

Toni was as she had been left. Sagging from the chains that held her, a trickle of blood caked down the arm from the wrist that had been broken. With her eyes a burnt-out ruin, it’s hard to tell precisely how she’s feeling, but her rapid heartbeat as they enter is a fair indicator. Lucifer’s smile darkens at that, and all plans of restraint nearly fly from his head. It would be so easy to etch the error of her ways onto each and every bone.

Dean pulls the chair against one wall to sit on it, watching, wrenches Lucifer from those thoughts. He has an audience. It helps a little.

“Oh, Toni, you don’t seem to be doing well at all,” Lucifer’s voice was almost a purr as he stalked around her form. Slipping his arms over her shoulders as he leans against her from behind. His mouth close to her ear as he listens to her rapid breathing. Whether from increasing fear or the extra pain his weight is causing as he leans on her? He doesn’t care. “I wonder have you spent the night thinking over your life’s choices, or are you still lost in that pride of yours?”

“I’m not going to give you anything. Certainly not to a monster like you,” Tonis spits. Her voice is shaking, but the iron trained into every Men of Letters is still there. It seems she has chosen pride.

“Toni, the only monster in this place is you,” Lucifer tuts, “Dean here is most certainly human… and has his own thanks to give you, I’m sure, for what you did to his brother… and I’m no monster-“

“Debatable.” Dean’s voice is low and only audible to the angel in the room. Lucifer rolls his eyes, grateful Toni is entirely unaware, before continuing.

“- I’m sure my father would be very displeased to hear you call one of his favourites that.” Lucifer is startled a little to realise he genuinely believes that. What a difference a few days make to aeons of emptiness. It adds an extra thrum of pleasure to it all that only makes his voice more sinister if Dean’s reaction is anything to go by.

“As if I would care what the father of any monster would think.”

Lucifer almost admires her spirit, if not anything else about her.

“Oh Toni,” Lucifer’s voice is at his most wicked now, filled with personal delight, and he sees Dean shiver out of the corner of his eye as he raises one finger to run in a freshly burning line down Toni’s cheek within his hold.  “I’m Lucifer.”

Toni’s teeth grit rather than give him any pleasure of a scream, but the jolt she gives in the chain is enough to have her wrist open up again. A slow line of blood slowly joining the others on her arm.

“As if Lucifer would work with the Winchesters.” Toni’s tone is dismissive, but there’s an edge of worry that wasn’t there before. Good. Lucifer pulls back enough to pat her on the shoulders as he retreats. Stepping around in front of her. He doesn’t bother answering her; she doesn’t deserve answers beyond what he uses to taunt her with. Lucifer brings both hands up to cup her face in a mockery of kindness. She tries to escape, but it’s useless. Bringing their faces close together so they’re almost touching. Delighting in the fear she feels of having him so close and unable to see him or predict what he will do. Even without the mark, he’s still an archangel, still the most vengeful of them all.

“I’m going to rip your mind apart now, Toni,” Lucifer says, voice bright as if discussing the weather, “I do hope you’ll fight back.”

In the brightly lit dungeon, it only takes seconds for Toni to begin screaming as the full weight of an archangel’s grace ransacks through her thoughts. He is not gentle.

…

Sam basks in the happy focus of his mother as he explains his work. Showing her both how the computer itself works and the growing database of information. Her genuine interest as he shows her how each creature in the database also links to referenced hunts alongside the factual information has him smiling. His mother’s mind seems to work in the same way as his own in such things. For the first time in his life, he genuinely knows he has something in common with his mother. 

“So you see, if anyone hunts a Rugaru, they’ll know all the basic information and all the different quirks and oddities others have faced that aren’t the norm. Everyone should be more prepared, and fewer people should die. That’s the hope anyway.”

Sam shows her how to click away to the map section, which had been his first thought when he’d seen the map room in the bunker. It didn’t warn people of threats in the database, not yet, but it at least showed hotspots for different creatures, and where they had been found in the country.

“With this, I’m hoping to help people narrow down what they could be facing on a hunt if they face something unknown. They can search through basic signs as well, though I’m hoping to make that better the more information we have. I’d rather people have access to something than wait forever for what I want this thing to do.”

“Sam, this is amazing.” Mary gasps, flicking the map through overlays for wendigo, vampires, and djinn. “You’re going to save so many people.”

The smile she gives Sam warms him all the way to his toes. Pushing his hair back a little bashfully, he reaches for his drink to hide his slight flush. To go from nothing to so much parental pride is overwhelming. He almost feels like he's sat in the sun.

“You think so? I’ve not had a chance to share this with many people yet. Even Dean only knows the basics.” Sam’s hand shakes a little as he puts the glass down, feeling Lucifer’s side of the union go as dark as it can. Lucifer is shielding him, so it can only mean one thing, and as the grace within him twists in sudden pleasure within him; he knows. He waits for the fear he expected at what Lucifer is doing, but it doesn’t come. Blank acceptance fills him instead. It’s the first change in himself he’s truly seen since he understood what the union was doing. He doesn't even feel guilty that he doesn't feel guilty.

“I know so. Too many hunters die out there because they don’t have all the facts. This?” Mary gives a sound of happy pride, “I’m so proud of you, Sam. I miss that I’ll never get to see you grow up, but I get to see you as you are now. It’s everything.”

Sam is stunned when, a second later, there’s a gentle kiss pressed to his forehead. His hands rose to bring his mom into him with a tight hold. Her own arms around him in turn. There’s a lot they aren’t talking about. Staying rigidly in the present for now, but they both need it. They need to find out who they are as people before they start excavating through history. That can wait.

“Mom,” Sam’s voice breaks a little, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

…

Dean’s fingers tap out a familiar tune on the table as he watches Lucifer pick Toni’s mind apart. The faint glow from his hands was outmatched by the continued screams from the woman in his hold. The look on Lucifer’s face is one of laser-focused vengeance. It’s solidly unnerving and would have had him reaching for the holy oil and a lighter if they hadn’t talked moments before about the mark. If he didn't know this was all in the name of avenging what had been done to Sam.

“Well, we have a problem,” Lucifer sighs, hands dropping from Toni, who hangs insensate in the chains before him. “They were more than just a scouting force. There was one other person who was with her that you dealt with before Sam phoned you. But there’s a whole force here setting up a base for the Men of Letters. They want to control the hunters here or destroy them. They think of hunters like vermin. If they won’t be a tool to be used, they’ll just wipe them out. Something they want to do to all the creatures of America, too.”

“When are they coming?” Dean asks, all professional hunter in a moment. The depth of the problem was all too clear, his stomach sinking at having yet another problem to deal with so quickly. All creatures would include many good people they knew.

“They’re already here.” Lucifer shifts to lean against the table by Dean, crossing his arms as he continues to stare at Toni. Dean wonders just what Lucifer wishes he could do to her, then decides he doesn’t actually want to know.

“Well, shit,” Dean sighs.

“My instinctive desire is to wipe the whole base from existence, before doing the same to their ones in the UK,” Lucifer sighs, his finger rising to run along his lips again in the picture-perfect pose of thoughtfulness, “Then we would only have to deal with the stragglers.”

“I sense there’s a but in there,” Dean says, shifting enough to keep an eye on Lucifer. Seeing Lucifer restraining himself is an almost novel experience.

“It will be very visible, and even I can only work so fast. A lot of people are going to ask a lot of questions. I don’t know what other wards and protections they will have that Tonie doesn’t know about,” Lucifer sighs, then he frowns. Face grimacing as his hands rise to twist in the air a little. Adding with gritted teeth every word seeming painful to utter, “I also don’t know if my father would be impressed with me or not.”

“I’ve died,” Dean says firmly, “I’ve died or in some strange dream because I totally didn’t hear you say that. That’s impossible.”

Dean raises his own hands in fake surrender as Lucifer turns to glower at him.

“Dude, you just worried about what Chuck would think,” Dean says, his words making Lucifer pause. Dean takes a breath, wondering if Lucifer is going to snap at last, before relaxing as Lucifer laughs instead, patting him on the shoulder. It’s a move that is so stunning that it seems so like Sam.

“What was I thinking?” Lucifer says dryly, shaking his head as his gaze turns back to Toni.

“Losing your mind, obviously,” Dean snarks, before an idea comes to him. “What about heaven? They tried to smite your Aunt out of existence.”

“Dean, I do believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” Lucifer quips. Summoning a knife into existence as he rises with a flip before plunging it into Toni’s side. Perfectly angling the blade to cause maximum pain with minimal damage. “Morning, Toni.”

It makes Dean wince a little that he can tell how expertly Lucifer moves, but he can’t blame him. From the way Toni writhes, one foot lifting from the floor, it’s a close-run thing that she didn’t scream this time.

“After work comes pleasure, they say,” Lucifer says, “Now Toni. Shall we tell Dean here what you were planning to do to his brother? To dear Sam?”

Lucifer turns to look at Dean at that, and Dean feels himself straighten. There’s a wait to Lucifer’s gaze that unnerves him.

“What was she going to do?” Dean can’t help but ask. He doesn’t want the answer just as much as he does want the answer.

“Our friend Toni here had prepared a nasty bunch of extra chemicals to give to Sam on top of the ones already in his system, hadn’t you?” Lucifer pats Toni on the head at that before wrenching her back by her hair and pulling her off her feet. For one long second, she dangles, breath too lost to scream, scrabbling for purchase as she’s released. Stubbornly silent still, but trembling in her bonds. “You’d burnt him, broken him, drugged him, and then you were going to rape him. You know, I’ve hurt Sam in the past myself, but even I never went that far. Toni, I’m shocked at you.”

Dean swallows at Lucifer’s words. Sam had already been through so much, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder if that would have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. His brother had needed to be strong through so much, and the world had kept putting more on his shoulders. Too much.

“Shocking the devil, now there’s a novel idea.” Toni gasps out. Fighting on in the only way she has left.

“Oh, Toni. I don’t think I like that tongue of yours.” Lucifer muses. He glances to Dean as he speaks, then, continuing on in that same overly congenial tone, “Do you know she burnt the bottom of Sam’s foot with a blow torch?”

Dean suddenly wondered whether he was going to be able to act as a break to Lucifer or be dragged down into the dark with him. No, her going to Crowley will be enough. It had to be enough. They didn’t have to be involved in it themselves. Forcing himself up off the table, he steps forward to rest a hand on Lucifer’s arm.

“It’s enough,” Dean says, “You can stop now.” Adding when Lucifer turns blazing red eyes on him, “Sam would want you to stop.”

Dean jolts back as Lucifer gestures towards Toni as if to strike her before stalking from the room, tossing the blade he held back into nothingness as he left. He can suddenly taste electricity in the air, and he gives one slow breath out. Lucifer had been inches from giving in to his impulses. Without a word, Dean follows behind him, wondering when it had become his job in the universe to talk down ultimate powerhouses. He wasn’t even paid.

Chapter Text

Lucifer stalks through the bunker, his grace making his fingers itch with the desire to rend Toni to pieces. Yet he pushes himself away and out through the door into the bright light of day. Forcing himself away from even Sam as he can’t bear to see the mix of fear, guilt, and concern he'd undoubtedly cause in the man. Squashing the link as closed as he can, even as his grace screams against the action. Proper bonds are manageable, but this one between him and Sam refuses. They’re too blended together for it to work, and he struggles against himself.

Staring up at the sky, he barely notices anything but the clouds. Gaze blank as he tries to reconcile the emotions he now feels. Angels, particularly archangels, are not unfeeling creatures. They are vast beings of grace and wide-reaching feeling that defines who they are. Their emotions move like tectonic plates; smooth and stately with only rare instances of volatility. It’s easy for lesser angels to think they have no emotions at all because of it, but the archangels know better. Human emotions are an ever-swirling tumult that Sam’s scant years of experience give him little to work with. The Winchesters weren’t exactly the most emotionally together themselves. Lucifer barely remembers who he is without the mark, and it’s hard to reconcile all the pieces of himself together through it all. Old habits and wants are an easy thing to fall back on, but they’re not the same. The want for revenge, and guilt for wanting it, are at war within himself, turning it all inward into a self-hatred for what he could be inflicting on Sam with the bond.

“Is this a private party or can anyone join?” Sam’s voice from behind him actually startles the Archangel.

“Sam,” Lucifer sighs and turns only a little to look balefully at the human. “I’m fine.”

“If you keep that up, you really will fit in around here,” Sam says, shifting to stand at Lucifer’s side, staring up at the sky as Lucifer has been. There’s a tension around Sam’s eyes, and he’s trying for relaxed and failing. He’s worried about him. Lucifer feels yet more guilt and falls back to the tried and trusted method of lashing out to protect himself.

“I wanted to tear her tongue out for besmirching you.” Lucifer hisses, turning to face Sam, who continues staring upwards. “I wanted to break every finger for daring to have touched you.”

“But you didn’t. Dean spoke to me. It was delightfully awkward watching him actually sound worried about you,” Sam’s tone stays level, before finally looking to Lucifer, “and if you’re trying for intimidating, you should probably try it on anyone who isn’t me. Now, are you going to stop trying to block me out because it isn’t working. You’re just hurting us both.”

“You’re too good, Sam,” Lucifer growls, his face all the appearance of anger, but Sam is unmoved. He’s faced that real rage made potent by the violence of the mark and stared it down. This is nothing like that, and he can feel the despair that’s powering Lucifer now. Fighting back a reflexive swallow, he gives Lucifer nothing to react to. He knows Lucifer now to every inch of his grace, and he trusts in that knowledge. He has to.

So, Sam says nothing. Just continues to stare Lucifer down and watches the archangel’s face fall by slow degrees. For one long second, the picture of guilt, before the archangel shifts back to looking up at the sky once more. The bond crept open into a regretful hum filled with Lucifer’s emotional chaos and Sam’s implacable understanding. Explanation and soothing presence all at once.

“I still want to hurt her,” Lucifer says, the words more a confession than anything else. “Hurt her and never stop.”

“Yet you’re out here. Let the demons gain our revenge. You made your lackeys; it seems only fair you should still get some use out of them. There’s certainly enough of them.” Sam says in return. His good nature only goes so far, and Dean had said enough that he has no forgiveness of the Men of Letters. Not so much on his own behalf, never on his own behalf, but for others? No, they’d come to hurt more than him.

“They’re more Crowley’s than mine now,” Lucifer dismissing the idea outright. Demons were always his lesson on how easily humanity could be corrupted. An army to prove him right. He’d never liked how right he was by just how numerous they had become, and so quickly. A plague of his own design.

“They’d turn to you with just a word,” Sam says, leaning against Lucifer’s side even as the angel scoffs at him, “you just don’t want them. Unless they were your originals, and the ones of those you did like are dead.”

“How dare you use my own memories against me,” Lucifer says, tone playfully shocked, even as he brings an arm around Sam, hand tightening it a little in silent thanks. Their open bond and closeness stabilising them both by degrees. Sam’s understanding overwhelming Lucifer even as it calms him.

“I remember the swirls of dark matter and energy through the sky, and the neutrinos that pass like rain,” Sam sighs, abruptly changing the subject. His voice forlorn, “It’s difficult to reconcile that I’ve never actually done that myself. Haven’t seen that with my own eyes. I keep trying to look for them.”

“Would you like to?” Lucifer asks after one long moment. An emotion he can’t place, squeezing at his heart for a moment. So sharp and human.

“Is that possible?” Sam’s voice so filled with sudden hope. The urge to be one is almost overwhelming for one long second. It would be such an easy way to show Sam that way, but Lucifer wants to level the playing field between them. Sam has grace after all, it just doesn’t know how to act in Sam’s body.

“Close your eyes, Sam,” Lucifer says, and he smiles at how easily Sam obeys. He brings his hand up from Sam’s shoulder to cover his eyes. Making no comment on the quiet gasp Sam makes at that.  “I’m going to use our grace to teach your eyes to see. You just need to follow it back yourself. You know how. You just need to learn how in your own body.”

With that, his grace reaches out through Sam’s eyes to meet the grace rising from within. Coaxing it into a slow building of fresh pathways and strengthening cells to look at all that heavenly sight has to offer. Sam’s form taut against him, holding tight to his arm but not fighting him. Sam’s eyes glowing bright even beneath closed lids and hand.

“Take it slow now, Sam,” Lucifer cautions as he finally pulls his hand back to Sam’s shoulder. “Those eyes are still human, and you only have two of them.”

Sam gives a small nod but doesn’t dare say anything. Raising his head before slowly opening his eyes. The splendour of the cosmos fills his view. He can’t get a breath for a second, staggered by the influx of so many new things, before old memories pull his vision into focus. Filtering out the overwhelming layers until only the swirling currents of the galaxy pattern the sky. His own living Van Gogh painting.

“I knew you could do it,” Lucifer praises him softly. His smile widens as Sam makes a single happy noise, gaze entirely taken by the sky. There’s a lot about this new arrangement that Lucifer is confused by, but this with Sam? It makes it all worth it. Makes it worth fighting to be the archangel Sam sees every time he looks at him now.

...

Castiel flew on. Moving on to the next brother, that he hoped would listen to him. His wings stretched wide through the planes in triumph as he flew. Marvelling at the speed he’d never thought he’d feel again as he twists through the atmosphere. That he was on a mission he and Lucifer had agreed on was just a layer of delightful strangeness over it all.

The night had been filled with low discussion once Lucifer had tired of the books. It had been tense at first, both unused to the other and being close to another angel. Trying to forge a course to being a family over the hard path of betrayals and hurt. Their grace had twisted around each other in growing welcome as the hours had passed, though, and Castiel had been continuously shocked by the change from the violent form that had filled him before. He had been far more shocked by the memory Lucifer had shared so tentatively of their father speaking to Lucifer and Sam. He hadn’t thought Chuck had cared, yet Lucifer sat as proof.

He’d stayed only long enough to speak to Dean before he left; Lucifer had been oddly insistent in that. Informing his dearest friend that he was quite restored and that he had Lucifer to thank for that. Assuring the man that he would be back the same day, despite being given a requested mission by the archangel. Lucifer had been careful to make it clear he was asking as brother to brother and not archangel to angel. Castiel had seen the storm of emotion in Dean’s eyes at his words, and he struggled to understand them. Even after being human, they are too hard to read. Not for the first time, he wishes he had permission to read inside Dean's head. 

His angel brethren have seemed just as hard to read today; so many emotions and reactions. Castiel hadn’t been able to predict how anyone would react. Some had fallen to their knees and wept at his message. Others were more reluctant, and he was to leave them in their understandable cynicism. Lucifer had been explicit on that. They were to heal them as a family, not a hierarchy of soldiers. They would return in their own time by their own choice. No one was going to be forced this time.

“Raniel,” he calls, landing in an alley in Cairo to find his brother aiding a small child to tie their shoe. The angel whispering soothing words as his grace secretly heals the child of cuts and bruises from where they had obviously tripped.

“I have nothing to say to any of my brothers,” Raniel’s tone is dismissive before he gives the child a wink and a smile. Pulling a sweet from his pocket before sending them on their way. “Whatever madness Heaven has found itself in now, I will not be part of the chaos.”

“Lucifer has been forgiven and seeks to heal us in our Father’s name,” Castiel says, “I only come to offer such to you.”

“Oh, no orders this time or high commands?” Raniel sniffs, obviously disdainful, “I seem to remember, ah yes, what was that phrase that echoed to us all, ‘he who hesitates disintegrates’? That was a few weeks ago. Forgive me if I don’t believe this recent power play. I’m not in America for a reason.”

Raniel turns away, then as if to head out into the busy city beyond.

“Sam Winchester and our Father happened. The Word of God was spoken unto them. Our Father would see us healed in more than just our wings,” Castiel says, trying to reach his brother but not moving any closer. He doesn’t dare.

“The Word has been added to?” Raniel whispers. Shocked at the revelation and about the people who were granted such a gift. Turning to stare at Castiel with wide eyes as his grace flares with sudden hope.

“I would not break your solitude otherwise,” Castiel assures.

For one long moment, it seems like Raniel will continue on his way anyway, glancing back to look out into that stream of people. Then he turns back to approach Castiel, watching him and assessing the truth he can see in his grace. Castiel feels the weighty judgement of his gaze, and he tries not to flinch under it. He has done enough to warrant censure of his own. In this, though, he stands in the certainty of being on the path his father wishes, he will not turn aside.

“Do you give me an oath on your grace that all you say is true?” Raniel asks at last, decision made.

“I do.”

“Then take me home... brother.”

...

“Come on, Ash, you need to know more,” John’s voice filled with bitten back anger as he sat, overly tense in the Roadhouse in heaven. Ignoring Bobby at his side for now as the man tries to speak some platitudes about his boys… their boys. He’s ignoring Ellen’s judgmental gaze from behind the bar as well; she has her child with her. Instead, he’s focused on the laptop crew pouring over their only source of information up here. Ash flanked by Charlie and Kevin as they try to make sense of recent events. They’d both come with information and stories about their boys and instantly glued themselves to Ash’s side, needing to know more about the world they'd been forced to leave behind.

John’s been a bundle of tension since Mary had vanished right in front of him, he knows. Only the Roadhouse crew that had recently found them in their secreted heaven kept him stable. Giving him something to focus on and a line of information from the tech nerds before him. That and the assurance that she’d appeared right by Dean, her resurrection sung out by the few angels left in heaven. Given as some sort of gift after Dean and Sam had managed to avert the end of the world. Again. He fears she won’t remember their conversations.

Any calm had been lost, though, when Ash’s laptop had lit up with a stream of unusual messages. A surge of grace had happened on Earth so great that the Angels in heaven ramped up in song and gossip. A burst of activity that was unusual for a group usually run ragged keeping the lights on in heaven. Lucifer had taken Sam again. The horror of it was overwhelming, but then things had somehow gotten stranger. The angels were whispering of something new stepping forth. Not the great destroyer risen from the cage to end the world, but something special. 

People had been scrabbling for answers when heaven had bowed beneath them. A great rumbling that had sent them all to the floor. Kevin spasming as some great pressure passed through them all and was gone. Everyone left breathless and subdued as they returned to their places. Kevin hadn’t looked at anyone since and was sitting wide-eyed next to Ash as the tech scrambled to make sense of it all. Brushing off any attempts by anyone to see if he was alright. Fiercely independent to the last. His sons seem to make everyone they meet pick up their bad habits.

“Kevin, come on.” John cajoles, “What happened. You look like… Well, I’d say you look like you’ve seen a ghost, but you get my meaning.”

“I heard the voice of God.”

Kevin’s voice is no more than a whisper. Yet it silences the bar anew. Drawing those gathered round them even closer. Keven has all their focus now.

“Chuck’s talked a lot though,” Bobby says, “He was with Dean and Sam for days. The angels couldn’t stop talking about it. It never caused that.”

“He was in his vessel then,” Keven tries to explain. Voice halting. It’s all new information unlocked in his brain as needed by any prophet. He can’t even seem to escape it in death. “That’s just conversation. There hasn’t been any new Word from God since Lucifer was cast down.”

Kevin’s hands shake then, and he downs the drink Ellen passes him without a word. John has to bite back his anger and let the man take his time. He’s learnt to be patient and knows that Mary would be disappointed in him if he snapped. He has to be better for her because he’ll see her again one day.

“Well, come on, boy, help those who can’t speak, Chuck,” Bobby says, his brusque tone managing to be gruff and compassionate all at once. A Bobby special.

Kevin jerks at that and finally repeats what he heard. The words slightly lilted and otherworldly. They’re nothing like they expected. Words entirely of hope and healing, filled with love for both the people the message targeted. No divine orders but a plea. It’s so oddly human. It should fill them with joy, all this talk of new beginnings. All John can feel is fear.

“What’s happened to my son?” John growls, and his fist thumps the bar as all he gets is a baffled shrug from Kevin. He jerks up to pace the room, trying to get himself under control. He just wants to protect Sam after all he’s been through, all he’s sacrificed to save the world. Now Sam is bound to his torturer, and there’s nothing he can do. He wants to shout at the nerd crew for more information, so he forces himself out onto the porch instead. He. Will. Make. Mary. Proud.

“I’d say we should trust in what God is doing, but we both know that’s no comfort after recent events,” Bobby sighs, the only one in the bar who’d dare to join him in his current mood. Bobby has never backed down from him in his life. Let alone in his death, “Instead, I’d say trust in Sam. He’d get himself out of it if he doesn’t want it, but if it’s a good thing, trust in him then.”

“It’s Lucifer.”

“Like that would stop Sam,” Bobby snorts. Sometimes John is overwhelmed by how much Bobby loves his boys, their boys. In the light of all he’s had to work through in heaven, he has it in him enough to share that with the man who kept them safe when he no longer could. “That kid’s never let anyone stop him unless they’re called Dean.”

“Sometimes not even then,” John says, finally managing a small worried laugh. Yes, he trusts in his boys. They’ve done the impossible too many times not to. He frowns at Bobby as the older man makes a sudden exclamation next to him. “What, Bobby?”

“He’s an angel.”

“That’s not news, Bobby.”

“Why not pray to him?” Bobby offers, and he smiles. It’s an insane plan. A terrible one. John almost dismisses it out of hand.

“Well, you can explain that to the others. I’m not having any flak for your insanity,” John says, leaning against the rail, wondering how the afterlife can be just as dramatic as life had been.

…

Crowley had been having such a wonderful day. He’d found a new tailor who almost matched the quality of the one he had years ago. Enjoyed a delicious scotch while trading barbs with his mother and just continued being King of Hell. The opposition to his rule was becoming less fraught with every attempt to claim it from him as well. Finally stabilising after Lucifer’s brief… annoying… stint. That he had finally gained some plans for how to gain retribution for that was just an added extra to his day.

At least until now.

The summoning had been an annoyance. It was a thing he’d always dealt with, first as a crossroads demon and again as King of Hell. There was always some idiot with an old book and more money than brain cells to buy the needed ingredients. Crowley delighted in teaching those individuals just how wrong they were in disturbing his day with their impertinence, or convincing them into a deal if they seemed interesting enough. So, when the summoning had pulled at him, he’d paused long enough to place his glass down before following the tug. Crowley knew his mistake the moment he landed in the expertly crafted circle in a warehouse that suddenly glowed with rapidly creeping sigils in fiery script around them as they activated. Even this wouldn’t have been enough to truly trouble him. No, that was all caused by the unlikely duo in front of him.

“Well, Moose. Can’t say I quite expected this from you,” Crowley says, tone ever dry as he looks from Sam to Lucifer. What insanity have the Winchesters got themselves into so swiftly? “I’m not really feeling the love here.”

“Oh, I didn’t call you for me,” Sam says, and he’s clearly taking pleasure in keeping Crowley in the dark. He’s never really forgiven him for turning Dean into a demon. The moose sure knew how to hold a grudge. “I called you for him.”

Sam steps back, then, giving Lucifer a further grin as he passes the archangel. A grin. Has the world gone mad in God’s absence?

“Delightful,” Crowley snarks, staring Lucifer down as the angel gives him a familiar smirk. Arms crossed and watching him with that same arrogant amusement that had put a chain around his neck.

“Hello Crowley,” Lucifer says, and the tone of his voice makes Crowley’s eye want to twitch, “How would you like an endorsement?”

Crowley’s mind blanks for a moment. That was not what he had expected him to say. “What?”

“An endorsement, Crowley. For King of Hell.” Lucifer explains, before glancing back at Sam to add in an amused aside, “I’m not sure he’s getting it.”

“You. You’re going to endorse me,” Crowley says, cutting through the strange sideshow in an annoyed tone of disbelief. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Just a few weeks ago, you had me licking the floor because you wanted hell back!”

“Yes, I did,” Lucifer gives a soft laugh, before Sam actually elbows him in censure. For a second, Crowley wonders if he’s hallucinating, “and you never really had Hell in the first place, Crowley. It’s more than a title. You’ve got some connection, but it’s still my realm. I have ultimate dominion.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of an endorsement to me,” Crowley says, managing to rein in some of his anger. Something is shifting in the balance of the world again, and he’s going to find a route to be on top of it again. It's vexing that it might mean working with Lucifer, but there are worse things. Like being dead.

“Oh, but it is,” Lucifer almost purrs. The tone is so aggravating, but Crowley forces himself to take a steadying breath. “You see, anyone who truly wants to sit on the throne of Hell needs some connection to me. A taste of my power.”

“And what do you want in return?” Crowley asks. This all sounds too good to be true, and he knows how those scams play out. You don't get to be King of the Crossroads on good looks.

“No demons are allowed to mess with or follow the Winchesters ever again. They’re off limits,” Lucifer begins, and even that first demand is enough to shock Crowley to his core, “I want a greater discussion about what deals are made for, but I’m sure we can come to a greater agreement there another time. Heaven and Hell had a truce to deal with Amara. I want to extend that. To a point. There is going to be no apocalypse, and we have to work together to find some sort of balance. Besides that, if I bring you people deal with you do so. They go to Hell away from everyone else, and they stay there. They are never to become a Demon. Finally, when I call for you, you answer. I can assure you, if I need you, it will be for something we will both want dealt with.”

It's a lot more and a lot less than Crowley had expected. It’s all so unexpected, and the confusion of it breaks through his self-preservation for a moment. “What happened to you?”

“My Dad happened,” Lucifer says. All amused smirk as he watches Crowley start at that.

“Great,” Crowley says, suddenly wishing he’d brought his drink with him. He’s going to need the whole bottle after all of this. The world has tilted on its axis again. He’s trapped in a circle with a Winchester and an archangel. It's like the start of some shit joke. Better to take the chance than fight it. He has no desire to be the punchline. The odds are better that way. Besides, there’s an odd victory in finally getting Lucifer to acknowledge him as King. Even if Lucifer had set the terms. “How do we get this show on the road then?”

Crowley freezes in horror as Lucifer stalks into the circle. The archangel standing all too close to him as those eyes glow red. He hadn't thought a touch of power was going to be so literal, fuck.

“You should thank Sam for this,” Lucifer says idly, shoving his hand deep into Crowley’s form and tightening around the truth of him. Crowley can barely hear him through the pain that wracks him. Hell was nothing compared to this as grace burns away at him. “He left enough human behind in you from that attempt to cure you for this to work. Don’t pass out now.”

“A little… warning… would have been nice,” Crowley gasps out, attempting for his usual dry humour and only getting a smirk in return. His vision blurs as pieces of him are torn and twisted into new places. A deep ache left behind, but also a growing sense of power and control. It feels darker and richer than anything that came before. It’s not the stripping pain of the racks, or the general slow fall of Hell. No. Something is being born within him. It’s over as soon as it began, and Lucifer’s hand slips from him as quickly as it entered. Crowley nearly falls at the loss. The void of pain left him gasping and disoriented. He doesn’t fall, though, righting himself to find it’s Lucifer holding him up. The shocks just keep adding up today, don’t they?

“There you go,” Lucifer mutters, looking him over with a thoughtful eye. “Being turned into a Prince of Hell always takes a moment to get used to.”

Crowley doesn’t quite believe the words, but he believes the power. He can feel it building in his veins like a tide, a purring beast of power that rubs up inside him, begging to be used. He’s been twisted into just the right form to be so much more than he was. There’s a solidity to his form now, a pulse of power coming from the spark of humanity that sits shrouded in the dark cloud of himself. No wonder the Princes were so dangerous; they have the power of a soul to draw upon within themselves. It’s a startling truth. An amazing gift. The yearning ache Sam had shoved inside him with that damned cure was finally gone.

“No wonder they followed you about like ducklings,” Crowley says, attempting to gripe at Lucifer, but he doesn’t quite manage it. He feels too damn grateful. The bastard. Lucifer even has the temerity to laugh at that.

“Yes, and Asmodeus was the worst of them all,” Lucifer agrees, actually agrees with him. “Now, down to business. I bestow upon you, Crowley, the title of King of Hell. Rule over my dominion in my name.”

The words break open a door in Crowley’s mind. He’s always had some control over Hell. Wresting control from others and rising to the top had allowed him to mould it somewhat to his will. This brings the realm into stark relief in his mind. He knows where all the gates are and the general status of all its denizens. No wonder Lillith had been such a terrifying force. Over it all, though, is the ever-present feel of Lucifer. Hell would only ever accept the rule of those touched by her creator. Even the cage had not unbound them. Now he is caught up in that and all the possibilities that open up before him.

“Well, isn’t that interesting,” Crowley says. Trying to synchronise the two different time streams his brain is trying to run on. The new powers aid him in that, but it’s still a lot. Hell is whispering in his mind.

“As for keeping people on my behalf, we already have someone in mind,” Lucifer says, shifting out of the circle and scuffing the lines with an absent flick of his grace as he leaves. Moving over to a comfortable arrangement of chairs that appear in a casual display of power. Sam follows in his wake, a silent but amused observer, but he does seem to be sharing a silent conversation with Lucifer if the looks are anything to go by.

Moving along behind them at a slower pace, Crowley continues to observe them. The surge of power the world had felt recently was slowly making more sense. At least a little. It just makes him more certain he’s chosen the correct side to be on as he settles into the final chair. He had always been aware of where the power was, and these two are radiating it. It's an easy decision to put aside all the plans he had regarding Lucifer just that morning. Better to be in the eye of whatever storm these two will bring than to be caught in the chaos they're sure to bring.

“I’m curious. Who has managed to piss you off so quickly after Amara left the building?” Crowley asks. "I'll do as you ask, of course, I'd be mad to do otherwise."

“Tell me, Crowley,” Sam says, his tone serious as he sits forward a little. Taking charge of the conversation at last, “What do you know of the Men of Letters?”

Crowley sighs, and he’d been having such a good day as well.

Chapter Text

The return to the Bunker is a quick one. Crowley forced to teleport himself before Sam feels comfortable enough to lean into Lucifer's hold. He needs more than fingers to the head because it’s a disorientating mix of too much and too little. They’d found that out the hard way coming here. His mind pulled in two directions as to what it should be like and what his body can process. The grace inside him unsteady at the confusion. Leaving Sam inordinately grateful that it was over in seconds.

They arrive to find Crowley staring at the Bunker in extreme discomfort. His face distorted in a sneer as he looked up in disgust at what had to be their new wards. Thankfully, it means he’s entirely oblivious to how wrapped up Sam and Lucifer were for one long moment.

Oh, good, the bunker hates him, Sam thinks vindictively with a look at Lucifer. He has to work with Crowley, but he still has somewhat of a grudge over Dean.

Don’t be mean to my new prince, Lucifer replies, all mock chiding and entirely amused. Especially when you do so when I don’t even get to see his reaction to it.

“Can’t say I like what you’ve done with the place,” Crowley says, gaze still fixed on the bunker. The Bunker seems to take affront at that, and Sam can feel the wards glaring down at the demon.

Sam makes a small happy noise at that before heading in without a word. Entering with a growing smile and a happier step than he’d left as his home feels so happy to have him back. He leaves Lucifer to deal with his new project; demons were his fault after all, it only seemed fair. In honesty, it’s a relief to get away from the demon, and despite himself, he has to admit it’s not entirely Crowley’s fault. It had just been hard to keep looking at him.

He’d not been prepared for seeing what a demon truly looked like with his own eyes. It had been an idle curiosity about the new ability that had revealed it. Cycling through the layers of reality as Lucifer had talked until the black rolling mass had appeared; Sam had immediately regretted it, but the true sight had refused to go, as if the danger before him shouldn’t go unseen. He’d certainly got a direct view of the work Lucifer had done to Crowley. Informative and unsettling all at once. There was more he had seen, of course.

He had seen Lucifer.

The burnt and twisted form had once filled him with terror. Lucifer had always used it that way. But now all that Sam felt was sadness as he compared it to the shining creature he’d seen glimpses of before the fall in all those memories. Every scar was evidence of just how great Lucifer’s fall had been. Would Lucifer always have to carry the final scars? He hoped not.

It also led to a greater question. What did they look like together?

“Hey, you’re back,” Dean’s voice cut through Sam’s thoughts as he entered the kitchen in search of his brother. He’s caught his brother red-handed making a pot of Sam’s coffee. The little thief.

“Oh. Hey, Dean,” Sam smiles before making a pointed glance at his coffee. Dean gives him his usual unrepentant smile before putting on the pot. Sam could give him a quiet win over the coffee this once; Dean hadn’t been the best pleased about being left out of dealing with Crowley. That Lucifer would have needed to fly him and tipped the balance in their favour.

“So, Crowley get on team?” Dean asks, but his question is answered easily enough as the grumbling sound of Crowley can be heard making his way through the Bunker at Lucifer’s side. Even inside the building, he sounds twitchy. It makes Dean smile more, and he gives Sam a knowing look, “He didn’t like the new wards, then?”

“No, he didn’t, and they certainly don’t like him,” Sam says, moving to a cupboard to pull out a granola bar that gets Dean grumbling about rabbit food again. “He’s going to take her, and she won’t be a problem again. She’ll be safe enough if we suddenly need her for something. Though I hope not. What is a problem is that Hell has deals with these people.”

“I’m liking them less and less,” Dean comments, “What are the deals for?”

“Mainly to stay out of certain territories, specifically the UK, except for people foolish enough to summon them to make deals,” Sam says as he sits at the table to eat. “The main problem is that they have other bases in a number of other countries. More than Toni knew of, as well, and Crowley doesn’t think he knows of all of them. He doesn’t want to start cancelling deals until we know more.”

“So, no immediate smiting of those sons of bitches, then?” Dean says, brazenly pouring two mugs of his stolen coffee and bringing them to the table.

Dean’s opinion on the Men of Letters has permanently sunk when Lucifer had calmed down enough to explain what he had learnt from Toni. The rules of the Men of Letters were abhorrent.  They killed as standard in every situation, even in school. It was always a surprise when he still had room to be shocked by something. To hear of kids killing each other as training had sent their mum to her room to decompress alone. Dean had almost done the same thing if worry about Sam hadn't left him restless once they'd gone.

“No. No immediate smiting despite how much you and Lucifer wanted that,” Sam says, “Crowley is going to put some people on it where he can, but they know demons well and the deals will get in the way. Hunters here, of course, but this is so much bigger than America. It just means we’re going to need Heaven’s help to find out more.”

“They’re going to love that,” Dean says with a shake of his head. “What does Lucifer think of it all?” Dean pauses, frowning a moment, gaze distant as he tries to process the past 24 hours again. Finally commenting on the new situation with a familiar, “No, still weird.”

“He’s hopeful enough. Chuck’s genuine apology... You weren’t there, Dean. It affected us both. It’s all he wanted, really. I didn’t realise how much we both needed it,” Sam says, trying to explain even a fraction of that moment. He can’t. It’s like Chuck was a facade and they got a peek behind the curtain. Lucifer had gone from being rebellious as his primary drive to a renewed spark of duty. A duty he had sneered at only hours before.

“You are okay with this all, right, Sammy?” Dean asks, so very much all Sam adores in his brother. From the gruff tone to the look that says he will tear this world apart to save his brother if he needs him to. “Just say the word.”

“I’m okay with this, Dean. More than okay with it,” Sam reassures him. Ducking his head a little as if revealing some great secret. “You don’t know how careful he’s being.”

“Is that what breakfast this morning was, being careful?” Dean says, voice sceptical as he gives Sam a disbelieving look. Before gesturing a little as if grabbing at the air, “He was so... handsy.”

“It’s the bond, Dean,” Sam says, voice a little more rushed than he expected. Face flushed, because he knows how it must look, “it makes it hard to be apart, even though Chuck gave him a body. Getting close after being apart for so long. It helps.”

“You make it sound like you want him back in with you,” Dean says, hesitant to the extreme. He’s trying to understand, but it’s like edging through a minefield of bad memories.

“It wasn’t like before,” Sam says, Granola bar forgotten as he tries to explain. Running his hands through his hair as he tries to find the words. Staring down at the table before earnestly looking up at Dean. “We were both in control. We were more like aspects of one person.” He’s not sure how to voice this next bit. Wants to share but...

Should I tell Dean what happened to us when we joined?  Sam asks, reaching out to Lucifer. It’s not just his secret after all, it’s both of theirs.

You don’t do well keeping secrets from each other, Sam. Tell him. Lucifer replies quickly, and it comes with an improvement on Sam’s bitch face at breakfast. It actually feels like Lucifer’s hand is on his shoulder again for a moment. Even at a distance, it’s soothing.

Sam glances up at Dean to find his brother watching him with a knowingly suspicious look.

“You really do have silent conversations, huh?” Dean says, taking a sip of coffee. “This should be good.”

“We lived each other’s lives. We became each other and became one person. His grace and my soul. There's no separating them. We’re kind of sharing both,” Sam says at last, trying not to sound immediately guilty of something. “It’s never happened before, and we’re both trying to work through it. I’m still m,e though. We just understand each other more. Hard not to after all that, really. The direct hotline to each other’s emotions helps as well.”

“That’s some mind trip,” Dean says at last. Going silent as he seems to be thinking it over.

“You’ve no idea,” Sam says, with a relieved half-smile. That Dean isn't immediately angry about it all is a positive sign.

“So,” Dean asks slowly, tone thoughtful and suddenly sounding put out about something in all this. Sam can’t help but brace himself, “Why is he so appreciative of my cooking while you just complain about my food choices and eat rabbit food?” Dean emphasises his point by gesturing with his mug to the offending granola bar on the table.

“You,” Sam stares at Dean, astounded he’s not being grilled further. The, if not quite easy, acceptance, a balm after being accused too often of making bad choices, “you’re such a jerk, Dean.”

“Bitch.”

“Ah, such love,” Lucifer quips as he joins them in the kitchen. Ignoring the joint looks his comment gains him as he pours a coffee and doctors it to taste. Adding as he does, “You’ll be pleased to know she’s gone, as is Crowley. She mouthed off to Crowley when I handed her over, so that really helped get him on side. She has a streak of pride even larger than my own. I never ceased to be amazed at how many humans can be so self-righteous with souls that dark. They’re a stain on the rest of you.”

“Well, sounds like some of us get a pass then. Quite the improvement," Dean says, as Lucifer walks over to sit by Sam and crowd up against his side. “Good to see Sam’s been such a good influence on you.”

In the bitchface Lucifer gives him, it’s hard to see where Sam ends and Lucifer begins. Dean can’t help but laugh at that because it is hilarious. Lucifer had been expressive before, but it seems his brother is a strong influence. That’s his brother, stubborn to the end. Dean quickly sobered, though, to ask, “So, what’s our next move?”

“I need to go to heaven,” Lucifer sighs, inspecting his coffee with a baleful gaze that had nothing to do with the drink, “The fall hurt my family, even now Heaven treats them as partially exiled. They’re so reduced, and when I was there last, I delighted in scaring them.”

Dean feels a flash of hunting Sam through the bunker as a demon and tossing scorn at his brother before he wonders how it would feel to have done that to dozens of them. It’s a thought that doesn’t truly want to form. It’s too much. From the way Sam’s looking at Lucifer, it’s clear he’s saying something to comfort the archangel through the strange connection they now share.

“How much was the mark?” Dean asks. He’s still shaken by the morning's revelations about it. It had put all of Lucifer’s past actions into stark relief. It's hard not to think of Lucifer's past without thinking of that on top of it in turn.

“I don’t know,” Lucifer says softly. “Can you honestly say you can blame everything you did on the mark?”

Dean shakes his head; he can’t either. Everyone has dark thoughts sometimes, but... the mark left you feeling like you had wanted what it did too much. No wonder freeing Lucifer from the cage had been apocalyptic. It wouldn’t need to have been ordained. After all that time locked away, it is more than a little surprising that the archangel didn’t come out screaming vengeance on anything that moved.

“Once they let me begin to heal them, we can begin surveillance on the Men of Letters. I just don’t want my family thinking I only want to help them so I can use them again.” Lucifer rubs his hands over his face in an all too human gesture. “There’s also Gabriel to think about. Father said he needs saving, so it can’t be good. We’ll need help there, too. I don’t want to wait on that either. There are just so many things I want to do, have to do, and they all want to be done at once”

“Chuck really handed you all of the issues, didn’t he?” Dean sighs.

“Well, he did find a way to bring me into the one team known for solving impossible things,” Lucifer says, smiling over at Dean with an amused expression, “even when my Father thinks you can’t.”

“That’s us, punching way above our pay grade,” Dean says, and he’s briefly proud of all they’ve achieved as he raises his mug in a mock toast.

“I could start reaching through some of the historical files, see if I can find any clues that may lead us to other Men of Letter’s hubs in the US and around the world,” Sam offers, already in planning mode, “I’ll go back over what I can remember from the six months I hunted Gabriel as the trickster and with what we know now see if I can find any clues on who to talk to besides Kali that isn’t already dead.”

“Should call up Garth and Jody as well. See what contacts they have that might know something or have rumours about this. They need to know about what’s coming as well, so they can pass it along the grapevine. Don’t want anyone walking into this mess blind,” Dean says in turn. “I think it’s time to make your hunter network official, Sam.”

Lucifer looks back and forth between them both with a smile. Watching them become those focused hunters that could take on seemingly anything and win was a pleasure from the other side of the line. A strange buzzing shivers through his grace for a moment, and he frowns in annoyance. Shaking it off before focusing again on the situation.

“I can help make the database something anyone you trust can access without needing the internet,” Lucifer says, slowly. It’s a novel idea and he’s not sure where to begin, but he’s willing to try, “It’s all just energy and wavelengths. When I’m in heaven, I should be able to begin setting it up. It should stop anyone unaware of it from stumbling across it, as unlikely as that might be. Don’t need some overly curious hacker announcing to the world that all this is real.”

“You can do that?” Dean says, incredulous.

“No idea,” Lucifer shrugs, “but that’s never stopped me before. I-“ He trails off as that buzzing becomes even more insistent. It’s so forceful in fact that even Sam next to him raises a hand to his own chest in confusion.

“What is that?” Sam asks, sounding just as startled as Lucifer feels.

Lucifer raises a hand, needing a moment to process it all. Trying to find an answer he ends up reaching inside himself to where he had all communication with heaven and the rest of the world shut down. It’s been so long since he’s thought of it, and only the hum of his reconnection to heaven had been able to get through. He’d had no desire to hear his family babbling at each other before joining with Sam, and now he had even less desire to hear how they’d reacted to Castiel. He would rather do that face-to-face.

Now, though, he opens it tentatively. Silencing the idle chatter of his brothers swiftly, but letting all other lines of communication sit open.

-don’t know whether you’ve got your ears on. Going to keep trying through. I’ll try Castiel next. Hope he’s near you. Amen.

Lucifer startles as Bobby’s voice drifts through his head. He was being prayed to by Singer of all people. Wasn’t he dead? Lucifer is more than a little baffled. Souls in heaven didn’t usually feel the need to pray, and certainly not to him and certainly not Bobby of all people.

“Lucifer?” Sam says, voice quiet from next to him as a tentative hand lands on his arm. The bond filled with gentle worry and an attempt at patience. Another prayer comes before Lucifer manages to formulate a reply.

Lucifer. You better not be hurting my boys. God seems to put a lot of trust in you suddenly, but I don’t. We want answers up here. I want answers….Amen.

Hey Lucifer. Charlie here. Heh, never thought I’d be praying to like the literal Devil. Even death with the Winchesters involved is crazy, huh. We know something is up, and we don’t like being out of the loop. We’re family. This seems like a lot, so I don’t know. Can someone tell us what’s going on? They are alright, aren’t they? I mean. They never seem to catch a break. I miss them. I… Amen.

More prayers begin to filter in one by another, and Lucifer tries to tone it down as he looks to Sam and Dean in astonishment, running a hand over his mouth.

“Your family is something else,” Lucifer says at last, “They’re all praying to me.”

“What?” The brothers ask at the same time with equal looks of shock.

“Seems they know something is going on,” Lucifer tries to explain. “They want answers and to know that you’re both alright. They’re being very insistent on that. Your father and Bobby are the worst of all. They're hardly giving me a break.”

“Our dad’s praying to you,” Dean says, and after the past few days, it seems that this is the revelation which is the hardest for him to believe.

“If it helps, he doesn’t seem best pleased about it,” Lucifer offers, glancing at Sam as he rubs at his head a little. He looks a little pained, and the bond is slowly filling with a growing discomfort. “Too much?”

“It’s like someone is shouting. I can’t hear them, but my head is still ringing,” Sam says, his voice a little unsteady. He slumps in relief a second later as it all abruptly vanishes, “What did you do?”

“I cut it all off again,” Lucifer says, his tone serious as he checks Sam over, “I’m surprised you got even that much, your body is still human.”

“This is Sammy we’re talking about,” Dean says, surprising them both as he gives his brother a wide grin, “If anyone would, it’s him.”

Lucifer gives a commiserating nod of his head as if agreeing with Dean. The two even actually share a look of joint understanding about it all, and Sam shakes his head. His headache quickly forgotten in the face of growing dismay.

“Oh no, you are not allowed to gang up on me together,” Sam says, utterly horrified, “That is not a thing that will be happening.”

“I thought you wanted us to get along?” Dean asks, with a classic shit eating grin. That Lucifer is spreading his arms a little in silent agreement with his brother as he twists to look at Sam, has Sam groaning and burying his head in his hands for a moment. This is somehow worse than them fighting with each other.

“So, it sounds like Ash is pulling people together into the Roadhouse in his heaven still,” Sam says, pondering the situation and trying to keep the conversation on track and off him, “Knowing him, he’s found some way to listen in, which is why they know something is up.” He pauses, raising his head to look at Lucifer in sudden seriousness, “I’m going to have to come to Heaven with you. You can’t meet ex-hunters alone. They’ll shoot you just on principle.”

“Sam…”

“Is that even possible without killing you? Can’t say I like it as a plan,” Dean says with a shake of his head.

“I have grace now, we should be able to find a loophole,” Sam says quickly, gaze still fixed on Lucifer, who hasn’t stopped staring at him, “Besides, we can always go together.”

Sam watches Lucifer force back a shiver at that, and they both feel their connection shudder at the thought. The urge is worse than demon blood had ever been.

“I don’t want to put you anywhere near the angels until we know what they’re going to choose,” Lucifer says, voice soft.

“Isn’t that my decision to make? I’ve been around them when I haven’t had an archangel for backup, you know,” Sam retorts and gets Lucifer’s reluctant nod in return. As much as it’s all-consuming, it’s still so odd to be standing in the overprotective gaze of an Archangel.

“Honestly, I think Lucifer is in more danger from our family than you are from his,” Dean says with a laugh, “I don’t want to think of what trouble they’ve caused since we tried to talk to any of them last.” Dean pauses before adding with a startled tone, “Wasn’t Bobby meant to be in Heaven’s dungeon?”

“I’m going to find more problems up there, aren’t I?” Lucifer says with a faint growl, “Winchester’s can’t stop being a pain in my ass.”

“Hey, we didn’t do this!” Dean exclaims the loudest as both brothers take affront.

“Oh, you did. You infect everyone you meet with your insatiable brand of free will, and if they’ve started teaming up in Heaven, the angels don’t stand a chance,” Lucifer says, pointing at both of the brothers accusingly. It doesn’t help that they both look too pleased by it all in their own ways, “We really will have to go together, Sam.”

…

They had retreated further into the bunker to do this. Leaving Dean waiting nervously in the Map Room. He had been insistent that he wanted to see them before they disappeared, and Castiel’s sudden return hadn’t helped settle his nerves. If anything, it had made their plan to go to Heaven more real. Even if Castiel had assured him he would stay, so Dean would have a direct line of communication any time he wanted.

Sam leans on a storage shelf as he tries to fight back his nervous excitement. It was an unspoken agreement that his room was off limits, so they’d picked the first storage space they’d come across. Lucifer is staring at him from far too close.

“When I talk to the angels, I want them to be clear the words are coming from me,” Lucifer says, slowly, “And I can’t see anyone in the Roadhouse being pleased if we show up united either. I don’t know what exposing you to heaven as you are will do to you.”

“Angels have taken their vessels to heaven all the time,” Sam says, not understanding. He can’t see what the problem is.

“You’re not a vessel, Sam.”

“If it works for them, though it has to work for us,” Sam says, trying to reassure Lucifer. “Wasn’t it you that said we had to trust in your father?”

The last he sees is Lucifer rolling his eyes before the room goes white with power. He can see Lucifer through the glare for one breathless second before the energy is pulled within him. It’s like a released spring of tension. His body staggering against the shelf as…

…They catch themselves from falling. Fingers digging in too tightly into the shelf and denting the metal as they orient themselves. For the first time in this too-long day, they feel truly at peace. Shifting up to stand far prouder than Sam would alone.

“Well, we can’t leave that there,” they murmur as they look down at the body on the floor. Crouching to tap it on the forehead, banishing it into a pocket dimension. On hand when they need it.

Now, together the nerves about heaven had all settled. They were properly joined again, and it brought with it an unnatural level of confidence, even with Lucifer’s grace bringing his usual planet-sized level of certainty. Walking back to their brothers, they have to fight back a laugh at the startled surprise already leaking from Castiel long before they had even arrived.

“So, questions?” They ask with a sly smile as they step into the map room, and the other two jump. Both had known to expect them, and they’re still startled. Are they so changed? They wonder. Dean still manages to look reasonably unaffected, but Castiel is entirely betrayed by his grace. His wings flatten behind him as he almost shrinks a little. Immediately submitting and trying to telegraph that he is entirely non-threatening. They can’t help but laugh, “If you react like that to us, Castiel, this is going to be a lot more entertaining than we thought. We don’t think we’ve ever seen you submit for a second in your life.”

“You’re both in there then?” Dean asks, giving Castiel a confused glance, “Sam said you’re both in the driver’s seat.”

“We are both of us,” they nod, “As you can see. No harm done.”

“Right,” Dean says. They try not to react to the loop of so weird they can hear from Dean’s head. He’s trying so hard not to shoot them on learnt reflex, and it's nice to see how far their trust has come as they don't actually have a bullet in them. They have no desire to reveal to Dean that his thoughts are being telegraphed to them, though. It’s not his fault he’s human.

Castiel still hasn’t said anything. Just staring at them with that same look of startled submission. But then, they are soul and grace combined. All that power could go to a person’s head.

“See you both later,” They laugh, spreading their wings to their full glorious length. The vast shadows of three sets flaring over the bunker for one splendour-filled moment before they disappear.

They push upwards through the spheres. Feeling heaven expanding above them before they twist through into the space that had been calling to both of them, even when apart. For a second, they look at the sterile bureaucratic nightmare of the working halls of heaven, before heading deeper. Those cold halls are not their home, created long after the fall and the byproduct of a heaven turned unrecognisable. They're a corruption and a sign of all that was wrong with the old way of thinking.

They fly deeper, their wings shifting through the twisting form of heaven as they rise towards its heart. No longer able to resist the call as it echoes about them, they open themselves wide to their family. They are singing. A song of tentative hope and yearning for the future wraps around them. Delight and joy at potential purpose from God once more, and the return of the echoes of a brother some thought to never see again. A song of surprise at this new joint form that stands as a testament to God not having abandoned them after all.

Most of all, they are welcomed.

Their grace sings back in reassurance as they push on. Reaching out to each of their siblings who had dared to return with a spark of gratefulness that they could find it within them to trust one last time. Greeting every presence by long remembered name as the song continues. It's a relief to be home and a surprise that a second one could be found here at all. Their mind cast wide to touch all that they can. So they easily find the spy in their midst.

Yes, yes, we heard you. But you must wait your turn, they laugh. Their words blink bright on a computer screen even as they say them. Oh, they must have words about that. Later.

Their wings brush through a multitude of separate tiny boxes of human afterlives in their delighted amusement. Answered with a ripple of wrongness that shudders through them, the only marr in the song around them. Another thing to put on the Never. Ending. List.

The artificialness of heaven shatters as they arrive at the heart. The High Court of Creation. All twisting nebulae as far as the eye can see, the nursery of creation and at the centre. Impossibility. The first garden, a twisting forest and lawn of all the plants and trees that had ever been and never were. A paradoxical sight that led up between high twisting pillars of gaseous light to four small thrones and up behind one final one. A throne whose occupant could not be mistaken even with his absence. The only sound the slow rush of water from a small pond to peter out over the edge. It’s Heaven. It’s creation. It’s home.

Beautiful, Sam whispers in their unity. Their shoes disappearing into nothing before they dare put a foot upon the ground. Walking slowly forward to stand before the thrones with a nervous heart. It's been so long since they have been here, and they only emphasise the loss of recent years. Five thrones, but just them.

So much has been lost, they sigh, sinking to sit on the first of the steps leading up to that final one. Keeping the seat of his father behind them, even then, it is a weighty presence. They can feel their family circling them. Not daring to enter until called. No one dared enter here without the archangels.

With great reluctance, they pull Lucifer’s body out next to them. Pulling apart before they can second-guess themselves…

…Sam takes a startled breath as they separate. The disconnect slips back into place like a flipped switch. So much easier than the first time.

“Well, that seems to have worked,” Sam says, giving Lucifer a relieved grin that’s answered with a smile of his own. Though strained with the memories of this place. It doesn’t last.

You are welcomed, Samuel.

Sam jerks where he sits. The pain of prayer was nothing to the sudden weight of heaven in his mind. Feeling the presence of the realm trying to reach him with fingers of grace and so much more into the depths of his mind. Strange and familiar and all too much at once. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, and for a moment he feels unmade; all in a fraction of a second. Then it settles, a slow peace pouring over him. Bruised, but still together.

Sam comes back to himself to find Lucifer crouched over him. His hands tight against the side of Sam's head and glowing with grace.

“What… What happened?” Sam asks, finding the words slow. The ground quickly became steadier beneath him with every breath.

“Heaven thought you were an angel. It tried to connect to you, and I think it succeeded. Congratulations,” Lucifer says dryly, only reluctantly letting go of Sam. Sinking back onto the stairs. He looks exhausted.

“What does that mean?”

“I have no idea. Let’s add it to the list,” Lucifer turns then to glare up at the final throne, “I hope you’re having a great time wherever you are. What was in the damn small print?”

Sam fights back a startled laugh at that and shifts to sit next to Lucifer on the stairs. Only Lucifer would pick an argument with God in his own throne room even now.

“Having regrets so soon?” Sam asks; he can feel the truth of it, but he has to be certain. He wonders if he should be more unsettled himself, but his life for the past decade has been one chaotic event after another. This just feels like another day in the life of Sam Winchester. Just another brief moment of pain with surprising aftereffects. Perhaps he can feel worried about it later. He doesn't really have time now.

“Not as long as I have you,” Lucifer says, capturing one of Sam’s hands with one of his own. “At least I’m not alone in this dawning insanity.”

“No, never alone.”

Finally, Lucifer rises to his feet and opens the doors of the Court. A crowd of angels rush towards him, and he tenses. Ready for any reaction despite the welcome he had received. So, the crushing hugs come as rather a surprise. Lucifer is swarmed by the other angels, the grief in their grace and the hope despite all they had lost at war within them. Bodies so imperfect for the hold he wishes to have on them, even with his wings stretching to encompass who he can. There are only so many he can reach at once.

He’s all big brother in this moment, and these are his siblings who have been terrified and fighting for much too long. They’d never been prepared for free will, and it had been dumped on them through chaos and pain and so much suffering. He sees that now, all their actions are put into sharp relief.

There are also far too few of them. His siblings had once numbered into the thousands, the tens of thousands. Now there were fewer than a hundred. Each one felt more precious by the moment, and every loss a void he could feel like a scar across the heavens. Lucifer staggered to the ground, his family following. Surrounding him in a circle of devastation.

Watched on by a silent Sam Winchester. Heaven grieved for what it had lost.

Chapter Text

They had all slowly been brought around to the ‘Prayer Plan’ as it had been termed after the first tentative prayers had resulted in no sudden appearance of angels or a sudden smiting. Indeed, as there continued to be no reaction, they had gradually become more insistent and in some cases a little desperate. Not since any of them had died had something truly underlined just how cut off they were from the living.

Until Heaven started singing around them. A beautiful song had risen in hope, first from the laptop that sparked and hissed on the counter, but then louder still until it became the background sound of the space around them. You didn’t have to know the words. It transcended language.

“Speak to me, Ash,” John says, breaking through the hold the song has on them all to stalk over to the man hunched over and staring wildly at the laptop.

“They’re in heaven. Sam and Lucifer both. I don’t really understand what the angels are saying about it, but they’re definitely here,” Ash says, hurriedly. His words get everyone’s attention. “It’s what the song is about.”

“Some welcoming committee,” Bobby mutters, sinking onto a barstool. Less caught by the song now as he wonders whether Sam is truly okay.

“They’ve never done this before. There was dead silence the last time Lucifer was here,” John says, frustrated to the extreme and returning to his disjointed pacing. His fingers twitch in desire for a gun, hell, any weapon would do. The urge to try to do something is overwhelming. It’s too easy to fall back into old habits, and even easier when it’s his family in danger all the time.

“Yes, well God hasn’t spoken in heaven for a long time,” Kevin says, still distracted by the song as he’s the only one who can understand every word.

“Er, guys,” Ash says much slower than usual as the laptop screen turns blue and shines with a level of power it shouldn’t hold, “I think we’ve been noticed.”

There’s a mad dash for the exits, people grabbing coats and moving to leave. If they’ve been spotted, they only have moments before the angels come to corral them again. It’s not the angels. The voice that sounds out from the laptop is unmistakably Sam Winchester’s, but the twist of humour in it is so much more. An echo of power behind each word that tries and fails to be reassuring.

“Yes, yes, we heard you. But you must wait your turn.”

“That was Sam,” Bobby said, part delighted and part horrified.

“What does he mean, We?” John asks, “Kevin, what happened to him?”

“I don’t know anything more than you, John,” Kevin sighs, twisting from his seat by Ash to glare back at the man, “I’m not a hotline to God here. He’s not whispering me secrets I’m not sharing with the class.”

“They’ve gone to the very heart of heaven,” Ash says, cutting through the potential argument before it can begin. His laptop was back in his control as quickly as he had lost it, “I’ve never seen an angel go there before. The connection is struggling to see in there, but I’ve got enough that we can see what's going on. All the angels are being called there.”

A crack of thunder draws everyone’s gaze to the windows. Turning just in time to see the beginnings of a heavy rain drumming onto the glass. The sky is black outside and thunderous. A terrible storm hanging heavy over them all.

“Ash, your heaven’s never rained before,” Ellen says, stepping closer to the crowd as her precious bar is threatened to be swamped in falling water.

“It’s not me. It’s raining in every heaven,” Ash replies, shaking his head as he gestures to the screen, “It’s well… the angels are crying.”

…

Sam was sure he would have felt like an intruder for watching such a moment. Usually, such things left him shuffling awkwardly and trying to make himself smaller. Instead, he felt a little like an honour guard protecting the angels as they had the first moment of family in thousands of years. He knew with a fresh certainty that they had been fractured for years. He remembered well how they had been in all of Lucifer’s memories and just what they had become from his own. It’s no wonder they had wanted the end of the world; everything else they had loved had ended long before then. It helped him understand them, if not forgive them for what they had done to his family… for what they had done to him. Maybe one day, but not today.

He met the occasional glance in his direction with a steady, unflinching gaze. Lucifer’s self-assurance made it clear that he was more welcome here than any of his siblings; a steadying hum through their connection even as Lucifer tended to his siblings. He expected to meet censure in their looks. He expected to see the same stares that had once called him an abomination so easily. Instead, all he sees is guilt and a fear of retribution from a man who had so long fought against them. Putting that alongside Lucifer’s memories, they all seem so much like children. Ancient children.

“Things are going to change around here,” Lucifer says. Finally managing to break through the grief of it all. He has to because else he would want to seek some sort of vengeance, and that’s awkward when some of that is on yourself, “We are going to try to remember what it was like to be a family and find a new course. Something we are all going to have to learn.”

“Why did Father leave us?” A voice calls, the sentiment matched by many who hadn’t yet dared speak.

“He and Amara have to learn how to be a family as well. They can’t be family to us until they know how to be in themselves. At least, not the family we deserve,” Lucifer says, standing slowly and extricating himself from the huddled crowd with care to shift back to Sam’s side. He needs the stability it brings. He’d not had any desire to be responsible for so long, and now the weight of it felt too heavy on his shoulders. A responsibility that is underlined as the angels follow in his wake to gather around him and Sam. Some of them hang back to stand close but still at a distance, others dare come closer to sit near their feet. Sam feels the strange flashback of days, aeons ago, of archangels teaching fledgling angels.  

“When will they be back?”

“We don’t know,” Lucifer admits, sharing a glance with Sam as they both wish they could give a better answer. “We can only work on giving them something to be proud of when they return.”

Lucifer can still read some scepticism on the faces of some of the angels who had more supervisory positions. Indeed, Naomi looks positively fearful as she stands towards the back of the group. From Sam’s memories he knows she should be dead, and from the damage to her grace, it’s a surprise she’s alive at all.

“How do we do that?” Raniel calls, “Some of us don’t want to go back to being warriors watching the world destroy itself.”

“That’s not what I want either,” Lucifer assures them, “I do have need of your help, but not in a way that would put any of you in danger. I don’t want that.”

The group seems to take a moment to contemplate that. Looks and whispers passing through their grace before them. To Sam’s surprise, the group continues to be hopeful.

“What do you need us for, brother?” Indra asks, there’s a tension to his voice as if he doesn’t want the hope they’ve been given. There’s still so much trauma in the host.

“Before I explain, I wish to heal you all,” Lucifer says, “I don’t want to have any of you worrying you have to accept what I need of you to be whole again.”

Lucifer reaches into that background hum of heaven. He felt the power of the realm at his fingertips, but so weakened from a lack of feedback from the angels. The links are half severed, the overlay of exile printed over everyone but him and Sam. The fall of the angels from heaven had not just been physical. They’d been spiritually exiled and only an archangel could restore them. It was part of exile to keep an angel weak. Castiel had certainly felt it in his. Without him, they would have all died in the end as heaven fed on them like some sort of vampire just to keep the lights on. It takes but a moment to restore their status. Recreating the balance between angel and heaven once more. A positive feedback loop that created power for all involved. A sign of the balance their father had aimed for in all things.

He wishes he could find Gabriel this way, but they are equal in this. It was never thought that the archangels would need to monitor each other, so there is no way to see each other within the webbing of heaven. Besides, any trace would have long been hidden by Gabriel before he fled. Sam’s hand finds his, steadying him and helping him away from such thoughts. There will be time for that later.

With the link restored to all his siblings, it is easier than it was to restore the wings of the angels around him. The Court of Heaven flooding with the brilliant light of grace as what remains of his family is healed physically. Before Sam, Lucifer would have left it at that. He would have considered his task complete and washed his hands of them. Now, he feels the responsibility to be there for them keenly after years of watching Dean through Sam’s eyes. Damn Winchesters.

The next few hours are spent explaining about the Men of Letters and why they were an important target beyond just threatening the Winchesters. They are a threat to the balance of creation by their wholesale destruction of creatures even if they posed no threat, they were something heaven had been meant to watch for. Many of his siblings had been reassured that Lucifer and Sam just needed their help to gather information and watch those that they could. Lucifer had made it clear that too many of their family had been lost for anything more.

Slowly, the angels began to slip away in small groups. Heaven couldn’t run itself alone, and there were a lot of repairs from all the civil wars that had long been neglected. Many of the angels who were left were not warriors by nature but caretakers. Watchers of the gates of heaven and over the heavens of the humans. Turning their gaze to known members of the men of Letters was easy enough.

In the end, only one angel remained. Her back straight, but her gaze resigned as if accepting whatever fate her mind had conjured.

“Go on then, Sam. She’s all yours,” Lucifer says, almost reclining back on the stairs as he tries to deal with the exhaustion from it all. He can’t help but wonder idly if this is how Michael felt on a daily basis when he was in charge. If so, he can almost forgive him for some things. At least a little bit.

Sam approaches Naomi and tries to ignore the slight flinch she gives at that. It’s hardly a shock after how she had treated Castiel and the other angels for so long. Instead of what she surely expects, though, Sam extends a hand.

“Thank you for warning my brother about the trials and trying to stop Metatron. I’m glad you survived him,” Sam says, managing a smile for her, because, if he can forgive Lucifer then he can forgive one more angel. “Today seems a good day for new beginnings, right?”

“I-,” Naomi begins, entirely floored by it all before tentatively taking the offered hand. She’s flustered and obviously fighting back tears as she manages to add, “Thank you, Samuel. I’m… I’m trying to do better.”

Sam is frozen a second later as he suddenly has an armful of angel. Naomi finally giving in to her tears and collapsing against him quietly. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and his return hug is entirely awkward and stilted.

A little help here! Sam calls to Lucifer desperately and receives only laughter in return, but at least the archangel does join him. Smiling unrepentantly as Sam gives him the best bitchface he can manage. It’s like Lucifer only moved to get a better view of the entertainment.

What can you expect? You do have archangel grace in you now, Lucifer offers, his smirk growing wider as Sam just glares at him further.

Lucifer!

Fine, Fine. I’ll save you from the big, bad angel. Lucifer still laughing even as he pulls Naomi into his own hold. Rescuing Sam at last, and the human takes the opportunity to gain a little distance.

“We’ve both done a lot we’re going to regret for a long time,” Lucifer says, trying to find a way to comfort his sister. With only his own memories and those of a Winchester to go on, he’s not certain he knows the best way to do this. “All we can do is go forward and try to clean up some of the mess. Seems to work for the Winchesters, so there are worse ways to try.”

“You don’t know-“ Naomi begins, but Lucifer cuts her off.

“Oh, I do. I didn’t live as Sam Winchester for nothing,” Lucifer says, tone casual even as he pulls back from her to sling an arm around Sam’s shoulders despite Sam’s grumbling, “I know a lot about what people have been doing up here. It’s been very informative. If we don’t draw a line somewhere, though, it’ll never stop. I think that would really piss dad off.”

“Lived as Sam?” Naomi says, looking between them in confusion, “What happened to you both?”

“Father happened, of course, who else?” Lucifer says, dodging the question. “A little act of divine revelation for us both.”

“All of heaven heard it; we just couldn’t make sense of it,” Naomi says. She’s truly looking at them now and clearly doesn’t know what to make of the grace and soul that swirl between them.

“That’s dad all over. Make sure everyone knows he said something, but that only those he wants to hear it,” Lucifer shrugs, getting a slight hit on his arm from Sam as he jostles him. "Has to keep everyone guessing."

“Will you stop that,” Sam gripes, pushing at his arm. “Honestly, we’re still trying to work out what he was saying between the lines. Two small requests seem to be turning into a rather long list of things to do.”

“Just means he can blame it all on free will when we do it,” Lucifer says, “It’s not like we disagree that these things need doing. Besides, neither one of us would have responded well if he’d tried to give us an actual order.”

Sam concedes at that, glancing back to Naomi, who seems totally lost from the byplay between them. It was a reaction from any audience they had that was probably never going to get old. He can also feel what Lucifer’s plan is for her and must have his say first.

“We’re taking the drill with us, Lucifer,” Sam says, firmly, “I’m behind everything else. Just that thing isn’t staying. I didn’t like seeing the plans Raphael drew up that day, and I certainly don’t like that I know it had to have been used on Cas… and others.”

Lucifer gives him a nod at that before giving Naomi his full attention.

“I need someone to represent me up here. You’re the only one left of your rank, the most powerful of all the angels left, and so the others will follow you more easily,” Lucifer explains, “I’m expecting to be able to trust you, and while Sam has misgivings, I’m willing to try. Things will be different for the angels and the souls here. In fact, the first order of business the caretakers need to know is if people are visiting others in heaven that is not to be stopped. Especially those we’re going to see in a moment.”

“People don’t do well in a box,” Sam adds from behind him.

“So, if you can monitor what is going on up here for us and report any findings that will help us for now,” Lucifer continues, “I suspect we’re going to need the full weight of heaven in the end. I’m not sure what we’ll do to the world if something makes Sam and me angry at the same time.”

“That sounds ominous,” Naomi says, “What should we be prepared for?”

“Something has happened to Gabriel. That my father needs me to, in his words, ‘save him’, doesn’t inspire any confidence,” Lucifer says, his voice sad as he can’t help but glance back at one of the smaller thrones. The vision of a bored Gabriel, feet tossed carelessly over one arm and throwing a ball into the air as obnoxiously as he could while Michael was talking flashes through his mind.

“Gabriel is alive?” Naomi’s gasp brings his attention back to her.

“That’s the one positive in it. We will find him,” Sam says, drawing closer to Lucifer as he speaks.

“So, can we count on you, Naomi?” Lucifer asks, and there’s the slightest hint of the power of an archangel as he speaks. The vaguest promise of what would happen should she ruin this chance.

“Of course,” Naomi says, “Anything you need. Both of you.”

…

Sam is reluctant to let go of Lucifer as they land outside the Roadhouse. The angel’s wings still wrapped around both of them on landing to conceal their embrace from anyone who might look. There are too many who might be inside that would make it a difficult meeting by themselves. So much past heartache and grief no doubt gathered in one place. Even with Lucifer at his side, it is going to be difficult.

“You’re going to have to let go eventually,” Lucifer murmurs, but his arms make no move to let go himself. He can feel how unsettled Sam is. The universe doesn’t seem to ever give the Winchesters a day off. That his comment gains him a patented bitchface is relieving even as Sam does indeed pull away.

“Yes, a bunch of hunters, and I’m not sure how human I am anymore,” Sam sighs, and that’s the crux of his reluctance. Heaven jacking itself into his brain had been a forceful underlining of him being something other again.

“You’re still Sam Winchester, and the fact you’re worried about that only proves it,” Lucifer says, catching Sam’s chin with his hand as the man tries to hunch himself over again. “No, Sam. No worrying.”

“Are you idjits going to come in or stand around out here all day?”

“Bobby!” Sam gasps, already turning to move towards the man. Lucifer quickly unfurled his wings to reveal Sam to the older man who stood at the open door of the bar. Sam rushes across the distance to hug the man fiercely, both of them very obviously trying to fight back tears. Lucifer follows along more sedately and gives them some space as he lets his wings fade from view.

“Hi Sam. Proud of you, boy,” Bobby says, patting Sam on the back before finally letting him go.

“I heard they’d put you in heaven’s prison for helping us.”

“As if heaven could keep him in prison,” Rufus’ voice calls from inside, “Now get in here already.”

Sam is more hesitant as he follows Bobby into the Roadhouse. It’s such a familiar place, but he barely sees it with all the people. Guilt and delight warring within him, and his gaze catches on his father. It's been so long, and all the familiar emotions his father always brings out in him play across his face.  Trying and failing to not worry about just what his father might do now. He doesn’t need to, though, as John is across the space and holding him tight before he can really process it. It’s stronger than any hug he can remember from his father, and Sam shudders as he leans into it.

“Hi, Sam,” John says quietly in his ear. It almost sounds like his father is fighting back a few tears, “You made mistakes, but then you cleaned them up. You always kept fighting. I hear you saved the world a number of times. I’m so proud of you.”

“Dad,” Sam is crying then, holding tighter to him, “I’ve really missed you.”

Behind Sam, Lucifer pauses at the threshold to lean against the doorframe with his arms crossed. It’s odd to see so many faces he feels he knows personally, but to be so uncertain of how they will react to him because they definitely don't know him the same way. A number of them are pointedly staring at him, but there are no guns pointed at him, so the reception feels positively warm.

“Get your ass in here, Lucifer,” Bobby calls from the table he’s sat at with Rufus.

“So Bobby, how far do you think I can make it before I see shotguns?” Lucifer asks with a painfully amused expression as he flips a chair around to rest his chest against the back as he sits. Arms crossed over the top of it as he looks to Bobby. It’s no real defence, but it certainly makes him feel better. Archangel he may be, but he knows well how much that doesn’t stop hunters from trying anything.

“After today, I don’t think you’re in any danger of that,” Bobby reassures him, pushing an unopened beer in front of Lucifer from the group of them on the table.

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Rufus says, still watching Lucifer with some caution.

“I told you, what we saw is a damn sight better than during the apocalypse,” Bobby says, “Can’t say I know whether I want to trust in a God that let that happen, but I do trust in Sam.”

Lucifer sits there watching the verbal sparring match between the two men. Eyes flicking back and forth between them as he wonders if he should be keeping score. He doesn’t dare interrupt. It’s too entertaining, and again, the place is filled with hunters.

“If you wait for them to stop, they won’t ever will,” Ellen says suddenly, appearing at his side with a stern expression. “Being dead has just given them more time to bicker.”

“Who usually wins?” Lucifer asks.

“Us, when they stop.”

“Ellen!” Bobby says, sounding betrayed. Rufus matches his expression next to him.

Lucifer glances away to watch Sam talking animatedly with the group around the laptop; his father hovering close behind. Charlie and he seem to be having a particularly emotional reunion. There are even more tears. Lucifer isn’t surprised by that. The guilt Sam had felt about her death had been so heavy, and Dean’s words had only added to that. Just one of the many lodestones that weighed Sam down in his life. He’s staring for perhaps a moment too long when Ellen cuts over his introspection.

“You really care about him now, huh?” Ellen says, and Lucifer turns back to find everyone at the table watching him.

“Him and his brother both,” Lucifer sighs, and he can’t help looking back at Sam. It’s even harder to look away as their bond begins to light up with excitement and happiness. He’ll bring Sam back here frequently if this is what seeing his extended family will cause.

“Well, you’ve got your hands full when they start doing hunts again soon,” Bobby says with a gruff laugh.

“What do you mean?” Lucifer says, turning to look at the man who gives him a pleased grin.

“Do you think either one of them will want an archangel babysitting them just because you’re connected to Sam?” Bobby says, taking a swig of his beer in satisfaction as he waits for the angel’s reaction. Lucifer groans and buries his head against his arms.

“Oh Father give me strength.”

All the hunters around him burst out laughing at that.

“You’re with the Winchesters now, boy,” Ellen says, returning to the bar with a lot more pleased expression. Turning to her daughter to have a quiet conversation that Lucifer doesn’t dare tune into. The Harvelles were the highest on the likelihood of shooting him list right after Bobby.

I need you over here, Sam’s voice echoes through him, and Lucifer takes the offered out with some relief.

“Looks like I’m needed,” Lucifer says to the old hunters who wave him off with their beers and return to drinking. Slinking closer to Sam, his path is interrupted by John, who steps abruptly into his way.

“You gonna hurt my boy again?” John says, voice gruff and starting him down. It’s not hard to see where the boys get their attitude from. Both of them ignore Sam’s quietly aggrieved tone from behind John at the standoff. They both know it’s important.

“Never,” Lucifer says. “I made him an oath.”

John looks puzzled at that as Kevin makes a strangled sound of surprise from behind him.

“That mean something, Kevin?” John asks, not looking away from the archangel.

“He can’t break it. It’s made before God,” Kevin says, “I mean, we’re talking eternal vows here.”

John’s gaze turns quietly thoughtful as he looks Lucifer over. The urge to pull some sort of sarcastic expression is strong in Lucifer, but he fights it down.

“Well, alright then,” John says at last, offering a hand, “John Winchester.”

That offered hand breaks any resolve Lucifer has, and he gives the man his best smugly amused look that he can as he takes it.

“Lucifer,” he begins, tone all smug and about to list his titles, before Sam cuts over him.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Sam, you’re no fun!” Lucifer huffs and lets go of John’s hand. The man now looking at him a little suspiciously, but does at least let him pass.

“Yes, well, your next words were going to get you shot,” Sam says, before gesturing to the laptop, “They were watching us. Seems Ash has upgraded his surveillance since last time we were up here-“

“I mean, I’ve had nothing but time,” Ash says a little nervously. Shifting in his seat as if he’s expecting Archangel rage for all the spying.

“Oh, this is perfect,” Lucifer says instead. “How have you managed to connect electronics to angel radio?”

“Oh, that was a little bit down to me,” Charlie says, and she gives Lucifer a little nervous wave as he looks to her. “Hi there. I’m Charlie.”

“Hi, Charlie,” Lucifer nods to her. He can’t help but be excited to see someone the boys loved so dearly. “How did you do it?”

“It was simple, really. It’s all just frequencies, right? We just had to jury-rig the machine so it could pick it up. We think heaven itself helped us a little bit because Kevin was here, but then we had full access,” Charlie says quickly, “It really helped us find Bobby when we realised his heaven was empty. Who knew there were so many people called Bobby Singer!”

Sam and Lucifer share a look before Lucifer turns to them with a grin.

“How would you like a job?”

“A job?” Ash blinks, “So, we’re not in trouble?”

“So, get this, I’ve been working on making a database that hunters can access whenever they need, but I wanted to set it up in a way that it would work in the field, and civilians couldn’t get to it. The internet didn’t seem safe because, well, we met you, Charlie and Ash. So, I could never think of a way to do it,” Sam says, pausing as Lucifer picks up the tale.

“This is where I came in. I realised that something like angel radio could work, as just as you said, Charlie, it’s just frequencies. I had no idea how to attempt it, but you’ve managed it here,” Lucifer gestures to the laptop as he speaks. “How do you feel about running the hunter network? You’ll need usernames, of course and no one can know who you really are or that you’re dead, of course.”

“I’m talking tech with an angel,” Ash says, bemused. “I thought they were all idiots.”

“I had a crash course,” Lucifer says, pointing to Sam. “So will you do it?”

“Are you kidding?” Charlie laughs, “Do you know how boring it can get up here? Of course, we’ll do it.”

The other two are nodding hurriedly as she speaks.

“You’ll need some way to contact us that isn’t prayers, then.” Lucifer reaches for the laptop before Ash can complain and presses his hand against it. He ignores Ash’s further complaints as the laptop gives an unhappy whine from his grace, but quickly settles as an interface pops up on the screen. “That should do it.”

“Did you just make a chat programme?” Ash says, staring at the screen with wide eyes, then back up at Lucifer. 

“Now you don’t need to be silent spies any more. Speak to Naomi if you need help with anything heaven-related. Sam or I if you need anything on the ground. Make a list of the equipment you might need that I can have sent to you. I might be able to get Dean on there if I can convince him to let me tamper with his phone. Early days yet.” Lucifer muses.

“We can talk to Dean?” John asks, pulling at Lucifer’s arm with one hand in sudden agitation. Lucifer looks down at the hand pointedly and back up at John. He’s pleased when the man drops the hand as if it’s been burnt. Only Sam gets to do that.

“We’re trying all manner of new things today in heaven. I don’t see why not. If my father doesn’t like it, he can come back and tell me off,” Lucifer laughs a little at his own joke, “But as the Winchesters are totally his favourites, I think we’ll be fine.”

…

Mary Winchester was silent as she sat on her bed. The tears from the final shock to all this new life she had long since dried. Instead, she was staring down at a phone she could fit in her hand and seemed to carry the world inside it, wondering whether she should call the number Dean had given her.

She didn’t know how to feel about being so needed by her children, even while they were full-grown, that she could be given as a gift to them by God's sister. Children she last remembered as being just four years old and a baby. Sam towered over her now, and Dean looked at her like she was something mythical. She didn’t know how to grieve for the years she didn’t see and the life John didn’t give them. She’s not heard much, but she can already tell the story must be harrowing by how quickly they dance around the topic.

She doesn’t know really how to talk to them, despite how desperately she wants to. How can she compare to the image of her they would have made in their heads? How does she not disappoint them? She needs someone to talk to about all this, and perhaps Dean had been right in giving her this number. Mary isn’t sure how she feels about calling someone she’s never met, but it’s not as if she can turn to any old friends. None of them had been in the life.

Mary fumbles with the phone for a moment. Touchscreens had been science fiction when she died, but she manages well enough. Typing in the number, she waits for the other person to pick up, feet tapping out a nervous rhythm on the floor.

“Hello?”

A woman answers the phone on the other end, and Mary isn’t sure if she’s relieved about that or not.

“Hi. My name’s Mary Winchester. Is this Jody? I was told it would be a good idea to call this number?” Mary feels stupid even as she says that. How do you start any conversation like this?

“Oh, Mary, I’m so glad you rang!” The woman on the end seems to be happy to hear from her, and Mary begins to feel at ease already. “Yes, I’m Jody. Don’t worry, Dean told me you might ring. I’m so glad the boys have you back in their lives again. They’ve missed you. It’s all a bit much, though, right? It’s not as if they live a life that isn’t anything but insane, and you've been dropped right into the middle of all that!”

“You can say that again,” Mary says with a relieved laugh, thinking of the two angels that also live with them. With a happy sigh, Mary tentatively begins to talk.

Chapter Text

From the look on Castiel’s face as Dean shuffles into the map room the next morning, he can already tell today is going to be a tough one.

“Are they still together?” Dean asks, already aware of the answer, but he holds out a little hope.

“Yes,” Castiel's voice has that same edge that shows he’s riding the edge of his annoyance, “occasionally they storm in to complain about another object they’ve found. Sometimes it ends quite dramatically as they burn it out of existence to prove a point.”

“They what?” Dean says, and it feels too early for this. He needs coffee and perhaps a manual to deal with a stressed-out archangel brother hybrid.

“They’re judging all the artefacts and the men of letters filing system. Oh, and their identification abilities,” Castiel says blandly, still looking at an odd point in the wall. Dean figures he has to be tracking the topic of their conversation. “The ash on the table was an item that apparently extracted souls that was mislabelled as a mood destabiliser.”

“Yes, well, something sucking my soul out would ruin my mood,” Dean quips, tugging his dressing gown around him a little more tightly. There’s silence between them for a moment as Dean tries to process what Castiel has told him. That the bunker is still so quiet now feels a lot more ominous than it was before.

“They shouldn’t have done both groups on the same day,” Dean finally concludes. Sam and Lucifer had come back last night united once more and obviously agitated. He’d wanted to talk to them then, but they’d distracted him by stealing his phone and giving him a direct line to the Roadhouse. Told him to enjoy before stalking off, muttering about too many damn responsibilities. Some of his questions about what had happened had been answered as best as they could by both Castiel and the family he is startlingly back in contact with… and it had been a shock to finally have a conversation with his father. It had been stilted, but had soothed some edges he didn’t know he still had. That left him hopeful, if his brother's return still worried him.  Dean hadn’t wanted to disturb them after he'd gained some information. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure how to talk to the union that still seemed so much like Sam but wasn’t entirely. He kept getting flashbacks of a white suit and was desperately trying to bury that thought as deep as he could. It wasn’t fair to Sam or Lucifer, and wasn’t that a wild thought.

“Perhaps not, but circumstances didn’t give them a choice,” Castiel sighs. He turns away from that point on that wall at last to stare at Dean, “I also think Lucifer has found, or remembered how to be a brother, with the responsibilities that came with being an archangel. All things he ignored before. It doesn’t help that everywhere they turn, they keep finding more issues that need solving. I believe, from the brief comments between rants about objects, they’re not sure how to carry the load. I tried to offer some advice, but they were decidedly not in the mood.”

“Well, we’ll have to make them share it,” Dean says, and there’s a sound of annoyed triumph from somewhere in the bunker, and he’s forced to add, “after coffee.”

Dean goes in search of them with his second coffee still in hand, finding them buried near the back of a severely emptied store room. Hair more askew than Sam would usually like, and still barefoot, they’re hardly the picture of put-together calm. A view not helped by the grumbling over an effigy of some ancient deity and mouthing off about idiots who wouldn’t know a good curse if it hit them. That there seemed to be a back-and-forth of curse comparisons in the grumble did not help the picture.

“So,” Dean begins and receives a glare for his trouble, “you need to find a name for yourselves in this form. Calling 'hey you' seems kinda rude, and I know if I use one of your names and not the other. One of you will bitch at me once you separate.”

“A name,” they say blankly, “that’s what you came here for.”

Dean, veteran therapist for God, just stares right back. Pausing to take a sip of his coffee. Number three on the most powerful beings in the universe is still just number three.

“Seemed better than interrogating you about yesterday and watching you storm off to another part of the bunker. You might start taking down walls,” Dean says, only half joking.

“We wouldn’t hurt the bunker,” they sigh, turning back to give the effigy a half-hearted poke. It smoulders slightly.

“What did that thing do to you anyway?”

“Tried to expel our lungs. It doesn’t like unbelievers,” they scoff, poking the effigy to burn it again. This time, it crumbles slowly away to ash. It definitely feels like they deliberately prolonged it, “the Men of Letters thought a witch did it. As if priests of any religion can’t be assholes.”

“That's people for you. You get all kinds everywhere.”

Dean gets a quiet sound of agreement at that, but their face doesn’t get any happier. They’re so obviously dwelling in the way Sam is always prone to. His brother’s brain never switched off, and Dean has the sinking feeling Lucifer is just the same. He has the ultimate over-analyser before him. Great.

“We need to tell you something,” they sigh at last, turning to stare at Dean. Trying to hide the inner conflict, but Dean is an expert at reading Sam. “Heaven connected to Sam as if he were an angel himself.”

Dean has to take a moment to process the apparent third person. Then, the fact that clearly an internal argument is going on inside Sam afterwards.

“So what does that mean exactly?” Dean says, stepping cautiously out onto no man’s land.

“We have no idea,” they say, with a slight shrug and tilt of their head as they look to Dean. The gaze is partly plaintive and thoughtful all at once. Furiously, Dean has to stamp down the flash of a white suit in his head. He will not think it. It becomes, fortunately, all too easy to forget when the tirade continues, “We don’t know what any of this means, where Gabriel is, where the Men of Letters are, how to fix heaven so people aren’t in ridiculous little boxes with only eighty angels. Eighty angels. If they were on Earth, they’d be an endangered species, Dean.”

They run their hands through their hair again, turning it into even more of a mess as it frizzes a little more from grace. Dean looks around the storage room with fresh insight. It gave a whole new perspective as to why the storage room that had annoyed and worried Sam since they first moved in was now mostly empty. Sam got to organise everything at last, and Lucifer got to destroy. It was calming them both down without threatening the nearest city. They were, however, running out of items.

“Alright then,” Dean says, stepping closer to them through the mess to place a hand on a shoulder that still felt so familiar. His grip tightens as he feels them flinch back a little in surprise. “What do you want to solve first?”

Part of them wants to go straight for revenge; it’s clear as day on the face Dean has been reading since Sam was born. The vengeance of an archangel was little cooled by Sam, who wouldn’t take offence for himself, but certainly would for everyone else. They couldn’t however, do much for that vengeance until they had more information. As their features softened, it was clear to Dean what path they had taken.

“Gabriel,” they say softly, “We want to find Gabriel.”

“Then we do that,” Dean agrees, “Take things one step at a time.”

“Time! Of course, time!” They gasp, looking suddenly energised as they turn to grasp Dean’s shoulders in delight before striding out the door. Pausing to grin back at him with a suddenly happy expression, “And call us Samael. It’ll make Gabriel laugh.”

Dean stares after them in confusion, mouthing to himself Samael. He truly doesn’t get it. How is that funny?

“Read up on  your religious texts, Dean!” Samael calls with further laughter.

…

He’ll never do that, Sam laughs in their joint mind, bringing Lucifer’s own laughter with it. The tension that had been building since heaven was finally released.

Makes it perfect, Lucifer agrees. That it would annoy one brother with how it was funny and make another laugh had got Lucifer over the hurdle of the name being a human invention. Rebel he may have been, but he had always been Lucifer; he had always been his father’s Morningstar. He supposed that with nothing but time, humans had just kept adding to the little they’d been told. Boredom was a hell of a thing. That, or Gabriel liked to embellish his messages.

Do we think we can do this? They thought at last, bounding into the map room with Dean close on their heels, and they’re unable to hide a smile as Castiel actually winces. Their younger brother actually seems to be stealing themselves for whatever rant they’re going to have. They doubted Castiel was going to like the sudden change in topic either.

“Cas, which hospital were you at in April 2010?” they say hurriedly, “We need a target to aim for, and we’re sorry, but unconscious you is really our only option.”

“It was near Delacroix,” Castiel says slowly before he looks at them in horror as he gains an inkling of their plan. He always was a good tactician, “You were both there. If you’re not careful, you could damage everything.”

“Close enough. We’re not planning on damaging anything,” Samael says, hands rising in defence, “We need to know more about where Gabriel is. At least this way we can track him for a time.”

“You can’t take him from there,” Castiel replies, voice serious, “Not with the wording of the message from our father.”

“Trust us.”

They smile at both their brothers before taking flight and slipping into the time stream. Leaving them both behind in their shock and confusion. Better to gain their forgiveness than ask for any permission. Wrapping their grace tight about them as they do so. It wouldn’t do to be noticed by anyone. 

…

The hospital room is bleak when they land. A sterile room with one bed, one window and one patient. Smoothing their hair back into place, they sit down on the only bed to look over its lone occupant. Castiel lay unmoving and barely breathing under the sheets. His face is pale, and even in sleep, his features seem drawn and exhausted. Neither of them had truly realised how desperate his condition had become during the failed apocalypse.

“How did you ever wake up from this?” They murmur, resting a hand on the battered angel’s chest with a sigh. There’s nothing but dregs remaining. In this form, Castiel is an angel in name only. No possible waking for him, except. “Oh, it was us!”

They release the barest trickle of the power wrapped tightly within them. Coaxing the shattered shards within Castiel from the self-banishment to form back together. They wished they could do more, but knew they had not and so could not. It was enough. Those embers glowed with renewed life, and in a day or tw,o Castiel would be able to awake.

“You’re going to be so annoyed at us when we get back,” They laugh softly as they stand, “Be seeing you, Cas.”

They let their wings take them away to the reason for their visit. Landing outside a darkly familiar building, the sudden screams from inside prove the party is already underway. It’s so tempting to go in and delve into the chaos, but they can’t. It would be too tempting to change events. Instead, they press themselves into the darkest shadows and blend their grace into the surroundings as much as they can. It doesn’t do just to hide; an absence is as noticeable as a presence. Their mission is too important to risk notice.

It breaks their heart when they see him fly in.

Gabriel’s face is uncharacteristically serious as he stares at the hotel. His shoulders rise in one great sigh before he steels himself to march inside the building. It’s infinitely more painful when they watch Gabriel’s trickster face click into place; it’s so easy to see it as the mask it is now. They did this; they both had their part to play in the guilt they feel.

He’s so close, and neither one of them knows who speaks, just that the pain is equally great. They want to follow him, but they force themselves to wait. The more distance they have for now, the easier it will be to stay hidden. It’s a long wait, the strange boredom barely broken by the innocent people running for freedom or watching Dean and Gabriel talk in the car. It’s difficult to watch, and Samael has to force back a sigh. They can’t give themselves away so easily.

When Lucifer finally appears, they move. Slipping out of the dark to walk behind him into the building. Close enough so anyone might think anything they sense is him and not them. If it had been anyone else, they would have feared notice, but they could feel the mad rage licking beneath Lucifer’s skin as well as they could remember it. He’s no danger to them, invisible as they are.

Still funny, Lucifer says as the gods begin to die, their joint mind filled with quiet laughter. Now, none of these deaths I regret. What did they think they could do?

Sam can’t help but feel reluctant agreement. These people did eat humans after all, but still, he winces as Lucifer’s hand goes right through Baldur, There were easier ways.

I had a point to make.

They cut off abruptly as Gabriel makes his entrance. Watching the talking with avid eyes as they take in what they thought had been his final moments.

He has a point, the only thing Sam can say as the verbal sparring continues. He goes quiet, though, as Lucifer pulls them closer. Twisting them closer together. Their gaze is nearly burning as they watch Gabriel. Looking for any shifting flicking of his grace, any illusion. There has to be something, and they only have one chance at this. They ignore the figure that forms behind Lucifer’s past self; it’s unimportant. It has to be another lie. Instead, they seek out the truth. Looking for where Gabriel moved himself.

There!

They see him. The vaguest shadow at the window. Hidden, but not hidden well enough to hide from the power they were as Samael. Gabriel is there already outside and with a front row seat to Lucifer so casually murdering him. The devastation on Gabriel’s face is no lie, and they’re forced to scramble as their brother steps back to take flight.

It’s a wild tumult of multiple destinations before they stop. Only Lucifer’s knowledge of his brother’s tricks and their enhanced power means that they can keep up with the messenger. A mind-bending blink of place after place, country after country, as Gabriel clearly wipes his trail clean.

He always was the fastest of us.

When they finally come to a sudden, unexpected stop, they’re by an oasis. The ruins of an old church behind them, the once beautiful colours of the painted mud brick beginning to fade away, and the door bleached white by age as it hangs loose in its frame. It’s as battered as Gabriel looks. It’s with some trepidation that they follow Gabriel inside to where broken chairs and debris sit forlornly before dust-covered relics. They watch as their brother sinks to rest his head in his hands against the altar. The moment hangs in absolute silence as they realise Gabriel is actually praying.

It doesn’t last. The archangel jerking up before them to point accusingly up at the broken cross.

“You didn’t even give me a message, you know, Dad. I’m meant to be announcing this to the world,” Gabriel spits, storming away a few paces before turning back. Every word a violent exclamation, “But you just have to be radio silent. I left heaven, but I didn’t leave you. But no. This is your grand plan? We get front row seats to them killing each other? Well, your plan sucks!”

“They’re my brothers! What do you expect me to do? Because I sure got an up close and personal preview of trying to reason with Lucifer, and he’s the one who likes me!” Gabriel continues, fully agitated now as rain begins to fall outside. He glances back out at it before muttering, “Shit.”

They watch in awe as Gabriel reins in every emotion and power within himself. If they weren’t already in the room, they’d never have known he was there. It's a level of skill that's astounding. 

If he leaves like this, we’ll never be able to follow him.

However, Gabriel wasn’t done with his tirade.

“I should never have made that agreement with Loki,” Gabriel sighs and kicks at the dirt, “At least then I could have fully interfered with the Winchesters and get them out of Your. Mad. Scheme.” Those final words are emphasised as he jabs a finger towards the altar again with every word. “They don’t deserve this. It’s too early, you have to know that. Unless you want this? If so, then you’re not just the world’s worst absentee father, you’re an ASSHOLE!”

Gabriel storms from the church and leads them down to the oasis. Hands in his jacket pockets as he glares down into the water, standing as unnaturally still as only an angel can manage.

“I like this planet, I don’t want to leave,” Gabriel says, his tone morose. “Humans can be idiots, but this is wrong. I need to talk to Loki.”

He vanishes from before them, and there is no trail to follow. Their brother’s control over his grace is far better than they ever thought someone could achieve. It doesn’t matter, though; they have a lead. They’re a thousand steps further than they hoped to be.

They approach the oasis to stand where their brother had been, standing in the ghost of his afterimage. They reach down into the water to pull out a pebble run smooth by time. Pocketing it as a silent promise that they would find their brother, they fall back into time.

They had brothers to apologise to for disappearing and a Loki to find.

…

Naomi was wondering when her life had become so insane. She had thought things had been strange in heaven the past few years, but the orders from Lucifer, Lucifer, were so out there even she was stunned. When Lucifer, and Sam she had to concede, had talked about souls making a community, she thought it would be just that. One community. She had been utterly wrong.

She stood with the caretakers before a complex map of heaven that highlighted dozens of communities across heaven. Few had the age of the Ash’s modified heaven, but the number of them was steadily growing over time. The souls had figured something out and the problem was definitely going to get worse over time not better. No wonder Lucifer wanted something done about it.

“We didn’t have many of these until the souls started coming in after Metatron was dealt with,” Ingrid says, gesturing over the map at certain spots, “Another issue we can blame on him.”

“It’s not to be an issue, though,” Naomi says, “We have to find a way to help this be normal up here somehow.”

“We’ve never done it that way before,” Ingrid gripes softly.

It’s something Naomi is still not used to. All the angels are beginning to develop, well, the polite word for it would be, quirks. Raphael’s orders had been very clear on what to do with those, and Naomi still feels that twitch to obey that had been her life for so long. However, she liked the new path they were on better; it felt so much more like what their father had ordained. That it had taken her so long to remember made her wonder if she... no, that wasn't worth thinking about.

“I know,” Naomi says, finally managing to reply, “But perhaps it’s precisely why we should try something new.”

“But if they’re allowed to go anywhere, there will be chaos!” Muriel gasps from Naomi’s other side, “If they can mix, how will heaven know what memories to form?”

“This is so they can make new memories together,” Naomi says, and she wonders if it’s too late to say no to Lucifer and join the angels working to gain any sight through the Men of Letters angel warding. “We need to make meeting spaces, parks and places like that.”

“Places, like, that,” Muriel repeats, and it’s all too clear she isn’t getting it. “That sounds so disorganised.”

Naomi isn't sure how to explain a plan to the other angels when she's not entirely sure how to do any of this herself. There’s a sudden disturbance before a message shivers across angel radio.

You do know you could just come talk to us, right? We have plenty of ideas.

Ah, yes, the other problem. Lucifer had, instead of punishing them for spying, given the Winchesters' friends and family a direct line to her.

…

“I told you last time that if you came back, I’d kill you. Fuck off.”

The door closed in Crowley’s face seconds after it had been opened. He snorted at that; it was a lot calmer than the reaction he had expected to be, honest. He hadn’t even been shot. Which, as his target had the Colt, was rather a relief to be honest.

“What if I told you I came on behalf of Lucifer?” Crowley calls through the door.

“Then I’d call you a lying son of a bitch,” Ramiel says as he opens the door once again just to glare at Crowley.

“Well, you’re wrong about the lying, but you’re right, my mother is a bitch,” Crowley says with a smirk, “Can I?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and just pushes past Ramiel. Ambling into the house as if he didn’t have a care in the world. With the power upgrade it certainly felt that way. His smirk deepens as he feels Ramiel lash out behind him and barely manages to move his coat.

"Oh, that tickles," Crowley laughs, barely glancing back at Ramiel. It turns out Lucifer could be generous when he wanted to be. All he gets from Ramiel is a sigh as the elder demon steps past him to lead him further into the house. Ah, it seems they had reached a détente for now.

“You weren’t this powerful before. What did you do?” Ramiel asks, turning to face him once they have some open space about them.

“Lucifer happened. I wasn’t lying when I said I came on his behalf,” Crowley says as he takes a seat, delighting in the look of stunned disbelief his words cause.

“I didn’t take you as a fanatic Crowley,” Ramiel retorts, “Last I remember you were a lot more adaptable than this.”

“Yes, well, I saw the way this particular wind is blowing. The apocalypse is old news,” Crowley says, “Lucifer may be around without daddy’s supervision again, but it seems he’s had quite a change of heart.”

“I find that hard to believe. Well, I would if you weren’t sitting here juiced up on power,” Ramiel says and finally takes a chair of his own. “I’m hardly going to go back to someone who has a habit of snapping away issues.”

“I think that will depend entirely on whether the Winchesters like you or not,” Crowley adds. He’s finding great entertainment in dropping each bombshell one by one. If Lucifer keeps asking him to do such entertaining tasks he's going to really enjoy being along for the ride.

“The Winchesters?” Ramiel sits back at that and seems to be entirely lost in thought. It shows how much of a revelation that is when he’s quiet for several minutes. Those eyes flick back up to Crowley at last, and the calm demeanour has all fallen away and left the ancient general of hell in its place. Crowley can feel how much he's being assessed on every level.

Not just a peaceful fisherman after all, Crowley snorts in his own head.

“So, what is the plan? What use could Lucifer possibly have for a general who stepped away from the great plan?” Ramiel scoffs at last.

“I believe he called it new beginnings,” Crowley says, “I told him about you and the other princes that remain. I’m sure we can both agree that Dagon and Asmodeus are completely off their rocker. You though. He seemed impressed when I told him of your life here. You’ve moved beyond what you were made for, and he’s always been a fan of that. You’re the only one he asked me to approach. He has the angels-“ At Ramiel’s start of surprise, Crowley only looks more delighted. “- Yes, he has the angels, but they can only do so much. There are the demons of Hell, of course, but we both know what he thinks of them. He needs a demon he can trust that isn’t keeping the rabble in line.”

“What makes him think that he can trust me now when I walked away?”

“You went fishing,” Crowley says blandly, and Ramiel blinks at him in confusion. Crowley gives a small laugh at that, which gets him another glare from his fellow prince. Oh, fellow prince, he likes the sound of that immensely, how the tables have turned. “Asmodeus has made his own personal hell to rule over because he was too weak to take the throne, even when I was making a grab for it. Dagon is psychotic and was failing Lucifer even before the cage was formed. You though, you decided to just live. That puts you and Lucifer on the same side now.”

“How did this even happen?”

“However do you think? The Winchesters happened.”

Chapter Text

“Did they just do that?” Dean says, staring at the space where their brothers have just been, “Please tell me Samael did not just do what I think they did.”

“Samael?” Castiel asks, his head tilting a little in confusion as he looks to Dean. It’s such an endearing look on his friend; if he weren’t so concerned, he might have smiled.

“They needed a name,” Dean says, waving that away. “Please tell me they didn’t just go back in time. Please tell me they didn’t just do that, Cas.”

“No, they definitely did,” Castiel says with a sigh so heartfelt that Dean almost joins in with it, before he looks slightly amused. It’s entirely out of place. “Naomi is apparently as concerned as we are.” Castiel breaks into the smallest of smirks, then, “she sounds run ragged by heaven.”

“Sucks to be her,” Dean says with heavy sarcasm as he slumps into a chair at the map table, “what do you think they’re going to do?”

“I hope they’re going to just see what happened after the Elysian Fields incident you told me about,” Castiel says, watching Dean as intently as he usually does. “They thought Gabriel had died there, so it seems a logical place to start. Perhaps now they know there is a trick being played, they can see through it together.”

“And if not?” Dean asks, running a finger absently against the map table as he looks back at Castiel. A bolt of relief goes through him to know his best friend is restored. It had been a stone of guilt in his gut for far too long. Sometimes he felt like he’d dragged Castiel down into the muck of Earth.

“If not?” Castiel sighs before continuing with the relevant finger quotes, “If not, then ‘Samael’ might just grab Gabriel then and there and break everything. If Gabriel had just gone to ground, he wouldn’t need saving; that he does need saving no doubt has consequences, so…”

“Titanic 2.0,” Dean says, “great.”

“Exactly.”

For a moment, they both sit in silence wondering what their brothers might do. Neither of them has any desire to deal with the fates again; once had already been one time too many. Dean thinks back on the stress he saw in that storage room and the mess of all that nighttime activity. Two united people trying to think of the right path to take. So very weighed down by it.

“No, I trust them. I trust Sam,” Dean says at last. “Sam wouldn’t, and no matter how much Lucifer might want to, maybe... Sam’ll keep him from doing it. I’m going to make breakfast.”

...

Mary packed slowly. Barely filling the lonely duffle with everything she now owned, thanks to Dean. A renewed life in one bag. Honestly, she was still in two minds about leaving. She really did want to be around her boys now. Hell, she was desperate to know more and was so proud of them. Things were just so insane, though, not just the life they led but the world in general, and she didn’t know where she fit into things or even who she really was any more.

She had missed the chance to raise them into men; instead, John had turned them into soldiers. Then life had finished the job by turning them into warriors. Mary didn’t even know what to think of what was going on with Sam and Lucifer. She didn’t know how to get a handle on it, and she didn’t think they’d appreciate her shooting the literal devil in the head again. Archangel or not.

So, she needed space, and Jody had offered her spare room. Oh, and all the tales of her boys she could give her. Jody had seemed so assured on the phone that Mary couldn’t help but agree. Going off alone into a world she didn’t feel a part of would probably not have ended well.

The main issue was how to tell her boys. She had seen how they looked at her. It was a level of love she didn’t know how to handle because there was no way she could live up to the ideal they had of her in their heads. No matter how much she wanted to. Mary was all too aware she had flaws, and she was terrified of watching that love crumble away in their eyes as they realised that. She had no idea how to meet them on their level.

Unable to put it off any further, she heads towards the kitchen. She finds the angel Castiel watching Dean cook with his usual serious expression. Though she had the distinct impression she’d interrupted some conversation. She always felt that way around them both. The moments between them always seemed so private.

“Morning, Mom!” Dean says, giving her a bright smile before turning back to making waffles. She was astounded by his cooking skills, which she had seen just over a few days, as they certainly hadn’t come from her or John. “Waffles will be done soon if you want to take a seat.”

“They smell great, Dean,” Mary manages as she sits at the table. Castiel gives her a quiet nod of welcome and what seemed to pass as a smile for the angel. She’s unable to stop her fingers from tapping on the tabletop in a nervous staccato.

“Morning, Mary,” Castiel says, and she returns the greeting while trying to hide her anxiety. From Castiel’s suddenly concerned expression, she’s not sure she’s very successful.

“I need to leave,” Mary says. Forcing it all out at once and wincing as there is a clatter as Dean nearly drops the ladle. He doesn’t turn, just becoming a frozen statue by the stove. “The last I saw you and Sam, you were both my babies. Young children and I defined who I was by you. Now I’m back, and you and Sam have grown up so well all by yourselves. You don’t need me that way. I’m so proud, but I don’t know who I am any more. I need to find that so you can get to know me... not a ghost.”

Mary thinks she’s done well as Dean starts work on waffles again. Oddly, it’s the slight nod from Castiel that reassures her more. Her boys are so familiar and like strangers all at once.

“Where are you going to go?” Dean asks, and Mary wishes she’d had years to learn his tones. Wishes she had any idea to know if he’s alright from what she’s said.

“Jody offered me her spare room. Near enough if you really need me, and it seems she knows a little bit about unexpected returns from the dead... even if hers didn’t... go well,” Mary says, slowly trailing off because it’s hard not to substitute herself into the story to see the Dean she knew from just days ago. The 4-year-old darling is long gone, but she can easily put herself in Jody’s shoes. It would have destroyed her. Just the thought of it breaks her heart.

“Jody? Good. She knows what’s up. She’s great, Mom,” Dean says and flashes a smile, even if it is a touch brittle. “When are you going?”

“Well, not until I’ve had the chance to taste your delicious waffles,” Mary replies.

“Good, can’t go missing breakfast,” Dean nods. He still seems guarded, and Mary hopes she hasn’t hurt him. She has the sinking feeling she already has.

...

Mary Winchester is long gone when Samael finally returns. The bunker’s garage now missing one of the less conspicuous vehicles that Dean had repaired. Dean had been happy to give it to his mother; it made him feel that perhaps it might entice her to return someday. He needed that hope.

He’d been sitting nursing his way through a glass of whiskey because Castiel had looked disappointed when he wanted to take the bottle with him. Skimming his way through Sam’s database to try and make himself familiar with it. It would be embarrassing to be out in the field with someone else and not know how to use his own brother's work. With the events of the morning, he didn’t feel up to anything else.

The return was signalled by a flash of brilliant light from the map room. Dean hustled toward it and found Lucifer and Sam curled around each other in a hug. It was all too intimate if not for the bereft look on Lucifer’s face.

“He’s alive, Sam,” Lucifer says, voice shaking as he does so. Fingers so obviously tightening into Sam’s shirt. “He has to still be alive.”

“We’ll find him. We have a path forward now,” Sam agrees, and Dean suddenly feels like a voyeur as Sam’s hand smooths through Lucifer’s hair. That they weren’t paying him any attention definitely added to it.

“I didn’t kill him,” Lucifer whispers, and the words his father had told him finally feel real. A few silent tears fell onto Sam’s shirt from the weight of it all. Nearly collapsing into the taller human as he finally lets himself process it. “Fuck.”

Dean rushes forward at that, helping Sam get the archangel into a chair at the map table. Any final doubts about where Lucifer truly stood vanish in the face of the grief he sees. Grief and guilt at what might have been. He backs away to lean against the table, even while Sam stays crouched at Lucifer’s side, holding one hand tenderly in his.

“You didn’t,” Sam says, and Dean recognises it as the soothing voice his brother sometimes uses on victims in his cases. It’s so clear how much Sam cares about the angel now, “And we’re going to save him together. You're going to save your brother, Lucifer.”

“He’s my favourite brother, Sam,” Lucifer says, voice still so quiet. He’s still staring away into the middle distance and so obviously unwilling to look at either Winchester. Silence descends, and Dean frowns a little as their expressions make it clear, to him at least, that they’d taken the conversation private.

Dean has to force himself to roll his eyes at that. Did either of them think he didn’t understand? Or perhaps think he would think less of the archangel somehow?

“Doing questionable things that make you worried what your brother might think seems a Winchester hallmark,” Dean says at last. Butting into their conversation because he certainly won’t be kept out of it. He certainly gets their attention. “That you nearly killed your brother just makes you seem like one of the family.” He pauses as he takes in their stunned expressions before he continues. “Hell, I once chased Sammy here around the bunker with an axe.”

“You were a demon then, Dean,” Sam huffs, still crouched by Lucifer, and Dean can’t help but be impressed by the extra strength the grace must have given his knees.

“And Lucifer here had the effects of the mark still. I’m not seeing the difference here,” Dean says, “You’re just proving my point for me, Sam.”

“Honorary Winchester or not,” Lucifer says, recovering some of his usual snark, “I am not adopting your ridiculous propensity for self-sacrifice.”

Sam gives a reassured sound at that and finally shifts to take a chair of his own as Dean quickly followed to give Lucifer some space.

“So, what did you find out?” Dean asks, already suspecting that not wanting to dwell on his emotions is something Lucifer shares with the Winchesters.

“So get this, Gabriel was hiding as Loki,” Sam says, with his usually earnest expression, “but he wasn’t the only Loki. We were able to track him to the point where he decided to go speak to what had to be the original Loki. We couldn’t follow him after that, though.”

“So, we need to talk to Loki? How do we find him?”

“There are ways of summoning any of the gods,” Lucifer says, settling back into his usual self-assurance with no apparent sign there had been any tears at all. “It’s not wise to do it if you’re human and you don’t know the gods. They tend to eat their summoners. I don’t think it’s wise to summon Loki immediately, either, if something has happened to Gabriel because of him we don’t know what contingencies he might have in place. We need to talk to someone who might know him, who also won’t be immediately angry at you. Let's not add more grudges against the Winchesters as we do this.”

“So, that means?”

“We’re going to summon Kali,” Sam says, “She owes us one from the Elysian Fields, and we’ve never called that favour in. She also knew Loki was Gabriel that day. How did she know? She had to get that from somewhere. Maybe she knows the real Loki, or met someone who does.”

…

The bunker had quickly proved to be insufficient in providing the highly specialised ingredients they needed to summon such a god. Lucifer had also been very clear that they had absolutely nothing that she would consider an adequate gift. With him in attendance, it would have to be good. So they had been forced out of the bunker, and Lucifer into shoes, to go to the nearest hunter-ready shop they knew. Lucifer had also made noise about getting some clothes of his own.

They couldn’t just gather things quickly either. Lucifer had suggested flying there to get what was needed, until Sam pointed out he’d have to deal with humans by himself. Lucifer had only pulled an ugly face at that. Both of them still needed to be apart to truly process things through. Individuality was a hard fought for thing after being together for so long. So, they had to take Baby instead.

It had been an experience driving with Lucifer in the car, and it hadn’t helped that the nearest town was four hours away with the stores they needed. Dean wished he could say it was because Lucifer had decided to be annoying. It was worse than that. He had been entertaining. Lucifer had spread himself out on the backseat and sung along to every track he had chosen to put on, all while drawing and writing away in several notebooks. The summoning circles had been recognisable at first, but as it became more esoteric, Dean had quickly become lost. It had been hard to tell the angel to shut up with the singing because he could sing, and because Sam looked so happy to be hearing it.

The only true incident was when Stairway to Heaven had started. The radio had fizzled and spat out the tape so forcefully that it had landed in the backseat with Lucifer. There it had quickly been secreted away in a pocket, and Dean hadn't dared ask for it back.

“Not that one, Dean,” Lucifer hadn’t looked up from his sketching, but he didn't start singing to the next tape Dean had put in, or the next.

Sam had frozen the moment the song had started. The urge to dig his fingers into his left hand had been almost immediate. A nervous response to the second traumatising piece of music in his life. He’d only managed to hold back by listening to Lucifer’s ramblings in his head about what heaven should look like. As if he had any idea as to what shape it should be. It was utterly ridiculous and so far removed from the hallucinations that it was easy enough to relax back into the seat. Easy enough to remember again how much things had changed.

“Right, so I’ll get groceries,” Dean decides for them after they’ve parked. “You both do all that witchy stuff you need and the clothes thing.”

Sam bites back a laugh at that. Only Dean would find shopping for clothes as awkward as getting spell ingredients. Hiding his amusement while he grabs what he needs from the legal level of the trunk.

“Yeah, we can do that. I’ll give Ray a heads up as well,” Sam says, checking his list for what the bunker didn’t have again before pocketing it.

“You'd better get enough for those burgers again, Dean,” Lucifer says, and Sam winces as he closes the boot to see the archangel is actually leaning on the car. The summoned sunglasses are doing nothing to help the look. It doesn’t help that both brothers know he doesn’t need them. Sam watches the standoff between Dean and Lucifer with growing tension as the silence stretches on.

“Don’t kill anyone,” Dean says at last, pointing at Lucifer, before turning the point on Sam as Lucifer raises his arms in a pose of absolute innocence that surely no one believes, “Don’t let him kill anyone.” Dean turns and stalks off with a slow shake of his head.

“He won’t,” Sam assures Dean’s retreating form, but he’s not entirely sure about that. Lucifer wasn’t exactly going to warm up to humans overnight; Sam rather thought the kill count depended on the people in Kansas City.

“I think he likes me,” Lucifer says, laughing quietly as he steps up next to Sam.

“You’re a menace,” Sam sighs, leading them off in the opposite direction to Dean. The offending angel close to his side.

“Want me to stop?” Lucifer asks, tone entirely too smug because he already knows the answer. So, Sam doesn’t dignify him with one. It doesn’t feel like much of a victory as Lucifer’s satisfaction purrs through the bond, and Sam has to admit that Lucifer can be entertaining at times. Sam also knows Lucifer needs to rebalance himself after crying; it was something no archangel had ever dealt with well. Let alone Lucifer’s thoughts on the matter.

It’s probably far too entertaining to Sam that the hunter store was hidden in a gun shop. It made perfect sense, though; no one needed specialised ammo and guns like hunters, and it gave the owner the chance to make a decent living without having to put crystals in the window. The only tell this was a hunter's store was a decorative example of gun etching that showed a perfect Devil’s trap pride of place in the window. It was also a good warning for any demon that they wouldn’t be leaving if they walked into the store. Ray had a reputation.

“Hey, Ray,” Sam calls out as they enter the mostly empty shop. A quiet bell tinkled at their entrance above the door.

Only the owner of the shop is there, working behind the counter on some paperwork. At first glance, he is entirely nondescript, every piece of his outfit tailored to be something you would just look over. Even his brown hair and beard do nothing to make him stand out from any crowd. As he stands, it becomes all too clear how much of him is a carefully cultivated mask. Those green eyes ever watchful, even as he leans against the counter with one hand oh so casually behind his back. Sam knows the lie there; it just means his hand is closer to his gun.

“Hi Sam,” Ray says, and again, all that easy calm that was only the perfect sign of any hunter on edge, “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m going to be shot again, aren’t I?” Lucifer laughs, all too entirely at ease and Sam winces as Ray only looks more suspicious. Sam suddenly has a sinking feeling about just where this is going to go. Lucifer’s ways weren’t going to be so entertaining when other hunters were going to be involved.

With that attitude, yes, Sam sighs and only gets back more laughter for his efforts.

“He’s Lucifer and life is complicated,” Sam says, deciding that truth is the only way to go. The secret about Lucifer is going to get out at some point, so it might as well be on their terms. Besides, Ray knew enough about their life to react well enough, he hoped.

“How does your life get weirder than God and his sister?” Ray asks, his disbelief is more than clear as he looks between his two guests. That he hasn’t shot Lucifer on learning the name is a testament only to how much he knows the Winchesters.

“My dad pardoned me,” Lucifer says. He actually gives Ray a dramatic grin before leaning on the counter to take off his sunglasses. Gesturing back at Sam with them and entirely ignoring the bitchface he gets for that, before adding, “He did, however, give me a list of chores to do once he left. You know, fathers, they don’t leave home without giving people things to do when they’re off having fun.”

For one long moment, it’s all too clear that Ray is truly debating shooting the archangel just on principle. Or perhaps simply because of how much confusion has walked into his store. It amuses Lucifer that it’s probably going to be the look he’s going to get from every hunter he meets from now on. He wonders how many will actually try. He should probably keep count.

“You brought an Archangel into my store, Sam?!” Ray asks then, sounding more than a little betrayed as his mind finally caught up with the situation.

“Well, I could hardly leave him at home!” Sam counters, and he tries not to let his eye twitch as he can see Lucifer shaking with laughter to one side. The chaos of it all so clearly what the angel had wanted out of this moment.

“At… home…” Ray groans, and he gives up entirely on his gun to bury his head in his hands. “Hi, Ray, we’re the Winchesters, Ray. No, we won’t let you get involved in the weirdness in our lives, Ray. We just need supplies, Ray…”

He’s fun, Lucifer says, the bond ringing with the depth of his amusement. That Sam only radiates annoyance seems to make him even more delighted by proceedings.

You’ve broken him! Sam snaps back. Briefly, Sam wonders if he could just have left Lucifer in the bunker, but neither of them had wanted to test stretching the bond that far yet. Both had doubted it remaining just uncomfortable with that much space. 

“He’s not going to do anything, Ray,” Sam says, trying to reassure a man he considered a good acquaintance, perhaps even a friend. “We are actually just trying to solve a few things God left us.”

“Oh, he’s already done quite enough!” Ray growls, his eyes widening in not well-suppressed anger as Lucifer gives his most innocently confused expression. “I was active until two years ago. Hunters have long memories, Sam. Not all of them know enough details like I do.”

“I was sick, it happens,” Lucifer says, giving an idle shrug as he heads over to inspect a display of guns. He knows enough from Sam now to understand what he sees, even if he doesn’t want to use one.

Please stop talking, Sam sighs. He has the sinking feeling that he has this to look forward to for the rest of his life. Lucifer might not want to kill humans anymore, but he’d never said anything about being nice to them and not playing with them.

“How-“ Ray begins before pausing to look puzzled, “What do you mean, sick? Sam?”

“You know when I warned you to be careful about Dean?” Sam says slowly, “Because something had a hold of him and he wasn’t himself?” He pauses while Ray thinks and gives him a slow nod, comprehension already dawning, “Well, Lucifer had it first.”

Ray seems to settle a bit at that, pausing to reevaluate the situation. Only the clever hunters manage to retire, and only the cleverest make a career out of helping those still in the life. Keeping one foot in two worlds is a difficult dance for anyone. Ray was certainly clever enough to understand what he was being told.

“Well, alright then,” Ray says, but gives Sam another dirty look, “But you still brought an archangel into my store!”

“Would you prefer me to wait outside and get bored?” Lucifer asks, giving that same innocent expression as before.

“Do you have a list?” Ray says, taking the only tactic he has left, which is ignoring Lucifer and getting through this as swiftly as possible. Sam quickly hands over the list and slumps against the counter as Ray disappears into the back.

Lucifer is quick to come over and pull Sam into his arms. The sheer amusement Sam feels from the archangel makes it hard to stay annoyed at him, but he wants to.

Humans make me uncomfortable, Sam, Lucifer tries to explain. They always will, you know this. Mark or not, I have never liked what your species represented. That I have managed to make any exceptions is entirely because of you.

Sam does have to concede the point. He knows well how humanity was the route the mark had taken to twist into Lucifer. It was going to take more than one human outside the sphere of ‘Winchester Family’ in Sam’s mind for Lucifer to begin to feel differently. Perhaps he should just take the win where he found it.

Sam pulls away reluctantly as he hears Ray returning, leaning back on the counter as Ray returns with a box of items and the list, now ticked off. He doesn’t miss the suspicious glance he throws Lucifer’s way as if half expecting to return to chaos in his storefront.

“I had everything you needed in stock, Sam,” Ray says, guiding Sam through the contents of the box. “It was an esoteric list. I’m not sure I want to know why you need these.” That gets Lucifer another look, which only darkens as Lucifer smiles at him. It didn’t help that Lucifer could weaponise a smile. “So, can we leave blowing up the universe for another week? There’s a film out on Friday I want to watch.”

“Funny, Ray,” Sam sighs, “This all looks great, thank you.”

“Oh no, I was being perfectly serious,” Ray says, and earns himself a sudden hearty laugh from Lucifer as he leans against a more distant counter.

“We just need to summon a god to have a chat.” Even as he says it, Sam realises that to someone outside their craziness, that wouldn’t be as comforting as he meant it.

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Sam. Just be careful, okay?” Ray says, “It’s things like this that got me out of the game.”

“I know, Ray. We wouldn’t be doing this unless we had to.”

“I do know how you Winchesters operate. I do know how many bullets you get through, unless you go behind my back to other stores.” Ray says, “I also know the type of power you walk around with. It’s why if you tell me that Lucifer is okay, I’ll believe it. Just…” Ray breaks off, “Don’t go dying on those of us who know how much you and your brother have done for us.”

“Not planning on it, Ray,” Sam says, adding cautiously, “Though, you could probably help with that.”

“Sam!”

“Not with anything dangerous, I promise,” Sam says swiftly, “People just need to know the Men of Letters are back and they’re not to be trusted. They want to bring the hunters to heel or kill them. They’re not good people. We’ve found out how they train their people. They make kids kill each other, Ray. In fact, murder seems to be their answer to every problem. Everyone is in danger while they’re here.”

“Shit, man,” Ray says, he knows well the hunters of America are not going to respond well to the Men of Letters on any level, “What do we do?”

“I’ve got Heaven and Hell keeping an eye on them.” Lucifer’s voice is more serious now as he interjects, and Ray seems startled by the change. Finally seeing the archangel for who he is, “But we still don’t know how far they’ve infiltrated here yet.”

“That’s what we need your help with. We’ve got the message out,” Sam continues, “But can you warn those you know who come to you and be extra cautious of strangers? I’m hoping, because you’re retired, they shouldn’t notice you, but you needed to know. Try to convince people not to stay in place too long.”

“I’ll do that, Sam. I’ll get the word out,” Ray says with a nod. “I’ll try to gather up any rumours for you as well.”

“Thanks, Ray,” Sam nods, picking up the box and heading to the exit with Lucifer close at his heels. He groans as Lucifer suddenly turns back.

“You should pray for me if you need help,” Lucifer offers suddenly. He’s even surprised himself by the offer, let alone Sam, “Consider it payback for not shooting me.”

“I'll think about it. Now, get out of my store.”

…

Gabriel ran his fingers through the water of the stream he lay next to. The water was cool to his touch, and it would have made him smile if only he could summon any emotion past the fear that clogged his throat. He truly didn’t feel like himself; pieces of himself felt lost. Even here, his thoughts felt fractured. Had this once been a river? He had memories of a torrent in this forest clearing, but no, surely it had always been this small brook?

He couldn’t remember.

He had come here for a reason. Pain and terror had drawn him here into the quiet of his thoughts. He just wished he could remember why. Here in the clearing it felt so distant. He knew he couldn’t stay here forever, but even that thought was enough to have him turn into the damp soil and dig his fingers into the ground and stream. He needed to feel the realness of the world around him. A heart he had never needed before racing in his chest in an uncomfortably solid way.

It was all too much and too little all at once.

Pain flickered into his awareness again, sharp bursts from the outside, and he curled tighter into himself. Fighting to keep his awareness on the grassy soil beneath him. Fighting to keep himself here and not back… there. Here was good, better to be distant. Better to be here. Anything over where he came from. He doubted anyone would notice that he was all the way down here.

No one would find him.

Chapter Text

Clothing shopping had been a thankfully short experience. A few outfits of standard hunter fare and a few more casual ones were easy enough to pick up; most in darker greens and browns, except the jeans. Lucifer only detours to pick out a soft brown leather jacket that he immediately puts on. It felt very much like the begrudging shopping of any Winchester. Lucifer only muttering about how bought items felt more real than conjured ones, and that made shopping necessary; the ones he made didn’t come with all the history.

The return to the bunker should have come as some relief after such a day, but the unfamiliar pickup truck waiting outside changed everything. A man in rugged jeans, boots and an aged jacket reclined on the hood smoking a cigarette. For all he had to be aware of the impala pulling up behind him, he didn’t move. He simply kept on smoking that cigarette as he lay back watching the stars becoming visible in the evening sky.

“That’s a demon,” Sam says hurriedly as he takes in the strange form. His vision shifted without his control as the grace shot through his soul over to protect him. Lucifer shifts up from the back seat to look over their visitor before making a sound of satisfaction.

“Ah, don’t worry. That’s who we’ve been expecting,” Lucifer says, patting Sam on the shoulder before going to exit the car.

“When was someone going to tell me we were expecting demon company?” Dean says, sounding more than a little put out.

“Did we not mention one of my prince’s might turn up?” Lucifer says idly, “Funny that.”

Lucifer is out of the car before Dean can say anything else to him. Leaving Sam alone to take the heat from his brother.

Oh, thanks, Sam sighs as he gets Dean's full attention.

You’re welcome, Lucifer’s voice is smug within his mind, but already distracted by the demon on the car.

“A Prince of Hell, Sam. You invited a Prince of Hell? They’re meant to be all dead!” Dean says, quickly winding up from frustration towards anger.

“Lucifer made them all. Most turned against him when his plan became to play along with the apocalypse. He doesn’t trust any of them from what he’s heard about what they’ve been up to in his absence,” Sam says, trying to explain what Lucifer had told him, before pointing out the window, “There is one exception, and that’s Ramiel. He didn’t go off to start his own mini realm of Hell. He went fishing, Dean.”

“What?” Dean says, his anger derailed by the crazy turn Sam’s words took, “Fishing?”

“He’s done a lot of other things too, mainly just living in the world. But, he does have a reputation for keeping hold of and not using weapons no one should have,” Sam continues. “Crowley tried to get him to run for King, and Ramiel turned him down. He didn’t want to leave his house or his peace and quiet. He just likes to live in the world.”

“Seems a bit weird for a demon,” Dean mutters, turning to inspect the newcomer through the window.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, “Lucifer is hopeful he’ll be willing to help us. Honestly, I think Lucifer respects him for finding his own way. He's the only one of his princes he wants to know.”

Sam gets out of the car before Dean can say anything else. He can feel the tension of the meeting rolling through him from the bond, and he steps closer to give Lucifer what support he can. Dean’s boots crunch behind him as his brother joins him to watch the standoff. He doesn’t have to look at his brother to know they’re both standing there with a hand discreetly on a weapon.

The demon, Ramiel, had hopped off the car bonnet at Lucifer’s approach but was still holding that cigarette. His gaze fixed on the archangel with deep suspicion. Both of them were in some silent confrontation as both weighed each other up. Ramiel’s eyes glowing a faint yellow as he looked Lucifer and then Sam over. Sam tried not to show any reaction to a yellow that brought so many bad memories back with it. This demon looks different from Crowley, more defined and less broken by anything Hell might have done. An edge to his appearance that seems more like a ghostly overlay of the human face he wore than anything twisted. When his eyes finally returned to normal, you could almost believe he was human if not for the shadowy form that flickered under his skin.

“So boss,” Ramiel says, finally stubbing his cigarette out beneath his boot, “I hear I’m the favourite child, again.”

“Sadly, it’s not like the others are giving you much competition,” Lucifer says with a quirk of a smile.

“That’s family for you, always a disappointment,” Ramiel retorts, “Though that Crowley, quite an odd younger brother you’ve added to the collection.”

“You gave him the idea, I was just agreeing with you,” Lucifer says, “Unless you wanted to deal with the rabble?”

“Fuck no, I did leave for a reason. Though I admit with Azazel around the air is probably a lot more breathable,” Ramiel says, barely glancing at the Winchesters as he speaks before returning his gaze to Lucifer. His next words seem entirely calculated, “Fanatics always ruin the atmosphere.”

“Yes,” Lucifer says, crossing his arms as he looks at Ramiel a lot more seriously. The angel is hardly going to miss that he’s being played and more than capable of turning it right back around. “Can you imagine just how much he’d have complained about what you just said?” Lucifer looks to the Winchesters then and gives them a wink only they can see, “I never did thank you for killing him, saves me a job.”

“You’re welcome,” Dean says, with a gruff smile; it’s so clear he’s delighted to get thanked by Lucifer for that. Sam can’t reply, though, because Lucifer’s eyes had met his briefly with a gaze that even the bond didn’t let him read. Words passing between them in a brief second, just between the two of them.

No one messes with my Winchesters. Lucifer’s voice was unusually serious and deep within his mind. The possessive nature of the most covetous of the Archangel’s shining loud and clear.

You live in our bunker, doesn’t that make you ours? Sam retorts, ignoring that it had all been done on Lucifer’s order. Always unwilling to give Lucifer an inch. Lucifer’s pleasure that Sam never shies from going toe to toe with him is all too evident.

Just yours, Sam. Lucifer’s tone back to that same tenderness that had always just been for him. Sam has to fight back a smile; perhaps Lucifer wasn’t the only possessive one in all this.

“Well, that’s a turn up for the books.” Ramiel says, “Lucifer thanking humans for something. That has me convinced. I come bearing gifts.”

He turns back to the truck to open the boot with a palpable shockwave of several spells coming to an end. Reaching inside, he pulls out one dramatically warded duffel before turning back to them.

“I’d much prefer if we unwrapped them inside your delightful building,” Ramiel adds, nodding at the bunker, “You do know it’s staring at me?”

Dean gives a soft laugh at that before looking to Lucifer. “You sure about this one?”

“Going to try to kill them, Ramiel?” Lucifer asks, giving the demon a bland look, “Any world domination plans?”

“Not planning on it,” Ramiel says, giving Lucifer an idle shrug.

“And we can take his word on it?” Dean says, his natural hunter suspicion all too clear.

“Princes can’t lie to him,” Sam explains, and he can’t help but sound a little smug, “He did make them after all.”

“I bet you left that out of the small print with Crowley,” Dean snorts, turning and heading for the door.

“Whoops,” Lucifer says, and Ramiel follows along behind them, laughing long and loud.

…

Ramiel wasn’t quite as congenial after they’d sat at the Library table and explained the situation to him. The demon had actually reached for another cigarette before Lucifer had given a slight cough, the pack quickly disappearing as Ramiel growled a little in frustration.

“Why couldn’t you have found one problem at a time to deal with?” Ramiel sighs, “But yes, I’ll help you. Those Men of Letters sound like bad news for everyone…” He trails off before adding through gritted teeth, “I’ll even work with angels if I have to.”

“I’m hoping that you’ll only have to talk to Cas,” Lucifer says, his hands wrapped around one raised knee as he sits on the side of the table by Sam. Turned enough so that he could see everyone sitting around them. “You’ll like him.”

“Yes, rumours of his actions do get around,” Ramiel says, finally looking a little amused again. “So, you’re going to summon a god.”

“I’m hoping there’s something in your bag of tricks that will help with that,” Lucifer says, gesturing at the as yet unopened bag.

“Ah, my gifts,” Ramiel says, standing to open the bag. The wards shift around its surface as he does so before slowly fading out of existence back into the fabric, “I think you’ll like this, boss.” Out of the long bag, he pulls a long, cloth-wrapped staff. Yet more warding covers the cloth, and even then, he floats it over to Lucifer all too gingerly. “I thought there’d be some irony for you to have this as your own.”

Lucifer unwraps the long bundle with an abrupt hand before giving a quiet chuckle that was so much more threatening than any of his bigger laughs. Sam was unable to hide a slight smirk of his own, able to recognise what Lucifer was holding from their shared memories.

“Oh, Ramiel,” Lucifer says, his voice almost a purr, “You really are my favourite.”

“What is it?” Dean asks, leaning back in his chair to get a better view of the spear. “Wait, I think I’ve seen that in a painting.”

“You just might have, Dean,” Lucifer continues, running a hand reverently down the weapon, “This is Michael’s lance. He would be furious to know I was touching it. He made it to kill me. Now it’s mine.”

“You can stop it from doing that, right?” Sam says, placing a hand over Lucifer’s in caution. Suddenly unwilling to have the archangel close to something so dangerous.

“Of course. There’s nothing Michael made that I couldn’t change to my own ends,” Lucifer says, giving Sam a reassuring smile, “I might even be of mind to make it Winchester safe, you both get into enough trouble as it is.”

With more careful hands, Lucifer rewraps it in the protective cloth. It was quite evident he didn’t want the weapon exposed around him longer than necessary.

“I also brought a gift specifically for you, Winchesters,” Ramiel says, fishing out a wooden box and opening it with a drop of his own blood. Glancing between Lucifer and Sam to Dean before offering the box to the elder hunter, “I think you’ll remember this.”

Dean brings his chair back to four feet as he takes the offered box cautiously. Opening it only to suddenly look up to give Ramiel the biggest grin.

“Is it Christmas?” Dean says and pulls the Colt out of its hiding place within the box. Inspecting the gun over with a close eye, “You had the Colt, all this time?”

“Crowley thought it might make a good coronation present, but when I refused, it became a tithe to stop me chasing a crown I didn’t want,” Ramiel shrugs.

“That’s quite the bag of tricks you brought with you,” Dean says, placing the gun back in the box and running his fingers over the long line of bullets inside. “What else have you brought with you, Father Christmas?”

The bag contained a number of other weapons, none as spectacular as the more personal gifts Ramiel had started with. A pair of daggers, though, swiftly caught Lucifer’s attention as he inspected them with a pleased air.

“These should satisfy, Kali,” Lucifer nods, “Daggers of negation. Most things they cut will lose their powers for a short time. Gives anyone a handy edge they might need, but not a weapon we’ll have to worry about later.”

Sam and Dean share a look at that, having a silent conversation all of their own. At last, Dean gives a slight nod of his head with a shrug. It’s all they needed to say to each other.

“We should summon her in the morning, today’s been long enough,” Sam says, “I don’t feel like dealing with a god tired.”

“I hope you like lasagna, Ramiel, because that’s what’s for dinner,” Dean says gruffly, walking off to cook. It’s clear that if Ramiel doesn’t like Lasagna, it will very much still be for dinner.

“I’ll go set you up a room,” Sam says, rising to his feet. Touching Lucifer briefly as he passes before moving away into the bunker.

“Interesting place you found yourself,” Ramiel says, watching Sam go. He hasn’t missed the strange bond between Sam and Lucifer. Something far bigger than Crowley alluded to is going on. He’s delighted to be here to watch it all happen; it’s the most fun he’s had in a long time. One thing he never expected was that it would be through his creator. He’d always imagined he’d die if Lucifer ever found him.

“It has been a remarkable few days,” Lucifer says, and the amusement in his voice is still a pleasant surprise to Ramiel. He’d watched, all those years ago, as Lucifer descended further into madness and rage than he ever believed. Far beneath the darkness that had turned Ramiel into who he was today. This was a being he could take genuine delight in serving again. It settled something deep within him that he hadn’t known had been screaming.

“So what did you really need me for?” Ramiel asks, wondering what Lucifer couldn’t say in front of the Winchesters. From the smirk that spreads on Lucifer’s face, it’s all too clear he’s as easy to read to the archangel as he ever was.

“I don’t need to keep secrets from them,” Lucifer says, still with that self-assured half smile that was so much his signature look, “I was genuine. Your advice and help in tracking down people. Between you, Cas and the Winchesters? I have every angle covered.”

“You’re making a new court all over again,” Ramiel says, unable to hide a shocked laugh. No matter how much Lucifer changed, he still wanted to be king of any castle he was in. As Sam enters, and Lucifer’s head turns to him like a beacon, Ramiel revises his thoughts. There seems to be two rulers in this court. That the other was the prophesied boy king was an irony that made Ramiel want to tip his head back and laugh.

…

The morning dawned to Sam perched on the end of the library table, watching Lucifer draw across the library floor in chalk. It was an incongruous position to see Lucifer in as he brushes excess dust off onto his jeans. Sam held the various circle sketches in his hands, watching over Lucifer’s work from above to check for any mistakes. There were none to catch, the archangel ever a perfectionist, but both of them were known for their caution. It was also nice to bask in the closeness after Sam’s sleep, the bond humming between them in quiet contentment.

“This circle is the one that should make her an exception to the wards unless expelled,” Lucifer says, explaining the next part of the intricate nest of circles to Sam as he goes. His hand moving deftly to inscribe Enochian and other esoteric scripts about the circle.

“Should isn’t a good word there,” Sam muses, checking off each line as it’s drawn. Rubbing roughly at one eye as he fights for full wakefulness, the promise of coffee is still far away in the kitchen.

“Well, no one has ever had wards like ours before,” Lucifer says, “We made something very special here.”

“If there’s anyone whose work to have confidence in, it’s yours,” Sam says idly, glancing through the sheets again as Lucifer gives him a darkly pleased look. Sam tries not to think about how that look, and the complex emotions from Lucifer, make his own nerves tingle. It wasn’t something he was ready to think about yet.

“Why are we drawing all over the library floor?” Dean’s voice is sleep-tired and annoyed from behind them. Sam has never been more relieved for his brother’s interruption as it gives him another focus.

“Do you think Kali would appreciate a warehouse, Dean?” Lucifer says, voice a tad scornful as he goes back to his line work. “We are trying to be a little tactful here.”

Dean considers this and silently gives his head a little shake and walks away to the kitchen. Evidently, it was far too early in the morning for him to debate this. Sam hopes that at least means there’ll be coffee waiting for him after this is done.

In the end, the ritual for the summoning was rather simple. Lucifer and Sam work as a single unit to prepare each ingredient and add them to the bowl. Dean was getting used to this strange teamwork, and he found some entertainment in watching Ramiel experience this for the first time. The look of disbelief on the demon’s face was enough to make all of this worth it, no matter what they learnt, to Dean.

Once it was complete, Lucifer passed the bowl to Sam with a frown. Lucifer hadn’t wanted to put Sam at the heart of the ritual, but an angel or a demon couldn’t do it, and Dean didn’t have the necessary power to put behind the pull. Sam would have been the natural choice even if he had been fully human.

Be careful, Lucifer’s concern shivers down Sam’s spine as he places the bowl within the circle. Feeling again the full weight of that archangel’s gaze, a pressure far beyond the body that contained Lucifer. A gaze that would be all too easy to get addicted to. With a steadying breath, Sam centres himself before lighting a match and dropping it into the bowl.

“Nos qui responsa nomine alterius quaerimus, praesentiam tuam imploramus, o dea Kali,” Sam says, his Latin flawless as ever. The use of Latin simply because he could speak it so well, and attempting Kali’s language and failing would have been much ruder. The bowl smoked in the circle before disintegrating. The power flaring up through the lines in a sudden surge of energy that lights the room.

A figure appears, back to them all. Finely dressed and a wine glass poised in one hand. As stately a stance as she had back in the Elysian fields. Her hair is neatly styled. Kali had always looked on point.

“-Of course I told the senator that…” Kali says, pausing as she realises how swiftly her surroundings have changed before she twists in place. That beautiful face twisting into a sneer before she’s even seen them. At just who has called her, though, she freezes. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Hi, Kali,” Sam says, his words quick to beat any of the snark from the audience behind him, “I’m really sorry we summoned you, but we had no other way to get in contact with you. We just need to ask you a few questions, honestly.”

“Questions,” Kali repeats, her voice becoming a low hiss. Her displeasure was very clear, and her disbelief as her gaze settled on the Archangel who had killed so many of her kin. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you… considering your company.”

“I promise to you Kali, I’m not lying to you. Just questions. We also have a gift for you, in thanks,” Sam adds, and Dean steps forward at that to offer out the daggers from an overly ornate tray that Lucifer had summoned just to ‘pretty it up’ as Dean put it. Dean gives Kali his usual flirtatious smile, which only gets the goddess rolling her eyes. She does at least step closer to inspect the daggers. Weighing them up expertly before secreting them onto her person and stepping back from Dean.

“Well,” Kali says, taking one long breath before turning back to Sam, “Perhaps we can have a small conversation. This one time. What are your questions, Sam Winchester?”

“Thank you, Kali,” Sam says, trying to fight back his obvious relief as he nods his head a little in respect. That move seemed to settle Kali a little more. “It’s about Gabriel. How did you know he wasn’t Loki?”

“You want to know about Gabriel and Loki?” Kali says, “But that’s ancient history and Gabriel is dead.”

“It’s complicated,” Sam says, and he feels like those words are becoming the motto to his life, “Please, Kali. I’d like to know.”

“You said please,” Kali says, actually smiling now. “Well then. I knew he wasn’t Loki because I met the original. That he never remembered we’d actually met was quite the clue. Then he turned out to be rather an egotistical cad, which was the second clue that the Loki I met was a very different person.”

“Different how?” Sam can’t help but ask, going off script, but his curiosity betrays him.

“Gabriel was an inordinate flirt, but he was polite when called for, and kind.” Kali says, “It’s what attracted him to me at first. He could destroy someone with absolute creativity, then soothe a crying child with a few jokes and a hug. Like flipping a switch. He always did the worst to those who hurt children.”

“But Loki isn’t like that?”

“Oh, he’d get revenge on the child’s behalf, but he wouldn’t stop to worry about the child. He’d consider that someone else’s job,” Kali says, glancing to a chair meaningfully, and Sam pokes Dean into passing over a chair to the goddess, who sits down. Even as she takes the chair she does it elegantly while placing her wine glass on the floor. “Thank you. I don’t suppose you have more wine? Or perhaps tea?”

I bet she’d even kill without a hair out of place, Lucifer says idly in Sam’s head as he watches. Sam can’t help but silently agree.

“Wine, no,” Dean says, before he frowns, “Do we even have tea? Sam?”

“Top left of my cupboard in the kitchen,” Sam sighs, “There’s a teapot in there too.”

“You’re such a nerd, Sam,” Dean sighs as he moves away to make the tea. It takes everything in Sam to resist making a bitchface to Dean's retreating back.

Sam turns back to find Kali watching proceedings with a pleased smile. As always, the world seemed to take pleasure in watching the Winchesters for entertainment.

“Did the original Loki talk to you about Gabriel?”

“Eventually, yes,” Kali concedes, “I was with Loki and a few others when the apocalypse began. He ranted to me about archangels and their pride. That he knew how they could be with his interactions with one. He was frustrated, so he decided to make sure I felt the same way by detailing how much I’d been taken in and lied to by one with Gabriel. Sadly, it was very effective; he always was silver-tongued. It was why I was so angry with Gabriel the next time we met,” her eyes flick to Lucifer and back to Sam, “I rather regret that now, of course.”

“He was angry with my brother,” Lucifer says, his gaze turning dark as he looks away a little, deep in thought. His reaction seems to catch Kali entirely by surprise, as much of all of this had done.

“Yes, he was,” Kali says, “Said something about an agreement and how it was already close to being broken.”

“Did he say what the agreement was about?” Sam asks, “Please, Kali.”

“Another please,” Kali says, sounding overly happy, “You really do want this information. If only I’d known in the past that working with the Winchesters could be so congenial.” Her words are only emphasised as Dean returns and passes her the cup of tea. In a remarkable sign of trust she actually sips at it without comment. Drawing out any reply as she inspects them all with a calculated air. “It was very clear that the agreement was between Gabriel and himself. No doubt part of the reason why they share the same face. As for the details, I can only surmise.”

“What do you think it might mean then?” Sam says, trying to keep the frustration Lucifer is feeling from colouring his own words.

“As Gabriel dived in to save you both, still pretending to be Loki, despite being able to deal with us all quite easily as an archangel… as was shown…,” Kali says, glancing judgmentally at Lucifer again, “I’d imagine he could never reveal who he was or be noticed by the family he was running from. At least, that makes sense to me.”

Sam has a flash of Mystery Spot in his head. It had been crude, like an anvil to the head that he only understood now. Through the lens of the apocalypse, it was clear that Gabriel was desperate to stop what was coming. Knowing that Loki probably didn’t want him to interact with anything to do with it at all? Gabriel had taken an insane risk. Gabriel had met with them a lot for someone who wasn’t meant to.

A cold shiver passes through Sam that isn’t just from him. Lucifer and Sam had the same thought at the same time. Both were very, very, grateful they hadn’t jumped into summoning Loki.

“What else can you tell us about Loki?” Sam says, unable to hide how much that question means to him.

“Oh, is he about to be in a lot of trouble?” Kali asks, and there it is. The razor edge that hides in her gaze, the pure glee she has at the coming destruction. “Well, I rather think he deserves it. After everything, I like Gabriel a lot more than him.” Kali stares at them as the silence stretches on, but her knowing smile, all teeth and cold glee, shows how much she’s worked out, “Let me help with that then. Loki has three sons: Fenrir, Narfi and Sleipnir. They all tend to live in the same city together. They move around every decade or so.”

“Do you know where they are now?” Sam asks, feeling Lucifer’s breath catch where he stands next to him.

“Central City, Colorado,” Kali says, and her smile manages to grow even more wicked.

“Thank you, Kali,” Sam says, and he steps closer to offer her a hand. “Thank you.”

“My, you are all politeness aren’t you, Sam Winchester,” Kali purrs, standing to her feet to take the offered hand. “Do pass on my best wishes to Gabriel when you see him?”

“I will,” Sam says, before asking, “Can we ask you to keep this meeting secret from anyone for now?”

“Do I get another please, Sam?” Kali asks, and Sam has the sudden shock that he’s being flirted with. That there’s a burst of possessive jealousy from Lucifer within him does not help matters. He knows he’s turning red and feels more than a little flustered.

“Please,” Sam coughs out, “If you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I don’t mind for you, Sam,” Kali sighs, finally releasing his hand, “If only I knew working with Winchester’s could be so pleasing. I won’t say a word, just, if you find out that Loki did do something to poor Gabriel. Get a little revenge for me?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Oh, good, do send me back now, Sam. There’s a good boy,” Kali says, pushing the chair out of the circle with one hand and returning her wine glass to its original position. Every motion all sinuous grace and highly calculated.

It’s with some relief that Sam says the words to close the summoning circle, and with little fanfare, Kali disappears from within. The glow from all the lines flaring once before dying out back to simple chalk lines.

Sam doesn’t get a moment to breathe before Lucifer is pressed against his back, the archangel’s arms wrapping tight about him as one hand quests inside his shirt to press against his flesh. The possessive jealousy from him is all encompassing and Sam knows it should scare him. To be the supreme focus of Lucifer again should scare him; instead, he basks in it. His own hands reach to curl over Lucifer’s as he leans back into the archangel. The dark satisfaction that gains him nearly makes him weak at the knees.

“Guys!” Dean says, voice tight, “Time and place. I do not need to see this.”

Sam springs away to find Dean and Ramiel watching them both with equal expressions of incredulity. In a way, they’d both been watching family get rather too close. Sam shuffles a little in embarrassment before coughing swiftly. Trying to change the subject away from the most dangerous game of chicken he’s ever played in his life.

“Well, we have a place to search now. Once we know more about Loki and his family, we can move on them,” Sam says. Dean’s raised eyebrows as he speaks make it all too clear that he’s not getting out of this conversation quite so easily later. Damn his brother.

“I can investigate the city,” Ramiel says, glancing to Lucifer to see his thoughts on the matter and receiving a nod, “I’m rather good at hiding, so they shouldn’t sense me. Though if I can, I’ll come back at night to pass on what I’ve found.”

“Maybe you can even bring pizza,” Dean says with a slight laugh, but it quickly fades as he sighs, “Looks like we’re hitting the books…again.”

…

Castiel was rather pleased that he could divert past most of heaven and arrive directly at the Roadhouse. He had no desire to speak to any of his siblings. Despite how things might have changed, he doubted he’d ever be truly accepted by his family again. Well, he wasn't ready to try yet, and there were also some angels he wasn’t sure he wanted to see again. Any joy at not having to see his siblings was squashed the moment he entered because, completely inexplicably, Naomi was right there in the Roadhouse.

She didn’t look entirely pleased to be there, though. Naomi looked cornered at one of the tables. A computer placed before her as Ash, Kevin and Charlie tried to explain some crazy scheme or other to her. From the look on her face, she was as baffled as Castiel was from the little he had heard.

“Now there’s a sight for sore eyes,” Bobby calls out, and Castiel finds himself smiling a little as the man approaches to clasp him on the shoulder. “Good to see you, lad.”

“Hi, Bobby. It’s been too long,” Castiel says, forced to drop the bag gently to the floor as the old man turns the move into a hug. Tentatively, Castiel returns it, patting Bobby on the back a little awkwardly before taking the opportunity to retreat back. “Introduce me?”

Bobby steps back to introduce Castiel to the others in the bar that the angel doesn’t know, giving the angel time to reacquaint himself with those he had met as well. It’s an awkward, but delightfully human, experience that Castiel revels in. Even meeting John Winchester isn’t as bad as he had feared, despite his own private thoughts on the man.

“So, you’re the one who's been saving my boys so often?” John says, his voice gruff, and Castiel can see where Dean gets that from.

“I try,” Castiel says, “Sometimes they make that rather difficult… or others do.”

“That sounds like my boys,” John says, even managing a slight smile at that. “Thank you, Cas.”

“You’re more than welcome,” Cas says, quite stunned by this whole conversation. Who knew that heaven would be good for John Winchester’s personal growth?

“Perhaps you should save your sister from the nerd squad,” John continues, giving a nod towards the crowded table, “They’ve been at that for some time now.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Castiel murmurs, unable to help himself. Wanting Naomi to stew a little longer, “Are you sure there isn’t anything else you have to ask me?”

“You’re alright, Cas,” John laughs then, clapping the angel on the shoulder before moving away. Castiel is rather annoyed at him ending the conversation.

Forcing back a sigh, Castiel returns back to bring over the bag he brought with him to the table.

“I come bearing gifts,” Castiel says, far too pleased at Naomi’s tiredly grateful look. Yes, now you get to experience the exhaustion that are Winchester-associated humans directly. The thought is particularly vicious, and Castiel can’t wait for his other siblings to have to deal with that. It was going to be so satisfying. “Lucifer would like you to know that items coming here from Earth is strictly forbidden. So, he’d be delighted to get you anything you’d like.”

“Oh! What have you brought us, Cas?” Charlie asks, darting up to hug the angel excitedly, “I’ve missed you!”

“It’s good to see you as well, Charlie,” Castiel says, managing to hug Charlie a lot less awkwardly.

“How many rules is Lucifer planning on breaking, Castiel?” Naomi asks, not so much in censure but with the flat tone of someone who knows she won’t be able to stop any of it.

“I rather think he’s planning on ripping up the entire rule book,” Castiel says, enjoying the slight twitch Naomi gives at that. “What else can you expect when father has shown he likes the rebels best?”

“Well, at least I can try and prepare for that,” Naomi says quietly.

“Just keep telling yourself that,” Castiel says with an edge of sarcasm that seems to delight Charlie to hear, while unpacking the large bag onto the table. Three fresh laptops, modified power supplies, headphones for each and a phone. “The phone is an experiment. Lucifer is not sure whether the modifications he’s done will hold in heaven. He’s hoping you can look at that for him as you did so well with the first laptop.”

“These are great, Cas. Can you thank him for us?” Ash says, already distracted by the modern upgrades. Evidently, more than a little relieved to be moving onto a laptop he doesn’t have to keep remembering. “Ah, I see he’s put on the database by Sam.”

“It’s not complete, but it gives you an idea of what we’re working with. With the phone as well, at least it’s a start.”

“Yeah, we can really do something this,” Ash says, flicking animatedly through the material as the other two explore on their own laptops.

“I suppose I can keep talking to our new friend, Naomi, about why I think the veil is responsible for the community issue,” Kevin says, sitting back a little.

“Community issue?” Castiel asks.

“Since souls started returning to heaven after Metatron’s defeat,” Naomi explains, “We’ve had more and more communities like this one popping up. We don’t know why.”

“I think it’s because souls are reaching Heaven entirely self-aware,” Kevin says, “Heaven didn’t fool me for a moment. I found the Roadhouse as I came looking for anyone who knew the Winchesters. I thought it would be the best route to find out if my mom was okay.”

“Makes sense to me,” Castiel nods, “You all had enough time to really process you were dead before heaven could get a hold of you.”

“But humans don’t have that kind of power!” Naomi says, adamantly disagreeing.

“You really haven’t met a lot of humans, have you?” Castiel says with a slight roll of his eyes, “One thing I’ve learnt, Naomi, is if they put their mind to it, they’ll find a way. Up here? That gives them all the power in the world.”

Chapter Text

Ramiel had intended to slip out before the Winchesters awoke and beneath Lucifer's notice. He leaned against the kitchen counter to wolf down a bacon sandwich as he pondered how best to investigate the city. What he hadn’t expected was Lucifer to find him at that early hour and hop up onto the kitchen table to watch him eat. The archangel’s gaze was unusually serious. It wasn’t an expression Ramiel remembered well from the past; indeed, he’d never seen the being as calm as he was here. It was so much more unnerving than his old self.

“I know that it took a great deal for you to come to me,” Lucifer says, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees, still watching Ramiel carefully. “So, thank you for taking that chance.”

Ramiel pauses at that. So much of how Lucifer is now makes him feel like the rug has been pulled out beneath him. All of it in a mostly good way, but still highly shocking. It’s an odd feeling that this Lucifer is one he’s so willing to serve and so quickly. It almost feels like hope.

“You had Crowley on side, I really needed to see why,” Ramiel says, trying to go for a casual tone, but he’s not certain he manages. “Besides, I had the lance.”

“In your trunk,” Lucifer counters, with that all too knowing smile again.

“Let’s say I put a lot of stock in what Crowley told me,” Ramiel says, taking another bite of his sandwich while Lucifer grins at him. It’s unnerving; he doesn’t know how Sam stands in the spotlight of such attention. It’s so much more focused than Lucifer ever was without the rage boiling away inside him.

“As you’re the only demon in the whole of creation I can stand, don’t go dying on me, Ramiel,” Lucifer says at last, “I’ll be very displeased with you if you do.”

“Oh, we can’t have that,” Ramiel snorts, taking another mouthful of food to stop himself from saying something he might regret. He understands the message beneath the flippancy. Somehow, someway, Lucifer is worried about him. He doesn’t know what to make of it. It’s something he’s going to have to think about and consider at another time.

“Exactly, I’m glad you understand,” Lucifer nods, rising to his bare feet to pad out of the kitchen before Ramiel can think of something to reply.

…

Dean corners Sam before he’s even managed to leave his room that morning. Ushering him gently back into the space with a fiercely serious gaze. Sam tries not to hunch over like he did when he was a little kid, already feeling guilty for what he knows the conversation is going to be about. He’s confused enough about it himself.

“So, you and Lucifer,” Dean begins, and Sam nods mentally. This was exactly what he feared it was going to be about, “I knew you were close because of the union-bond-thing, but that looked very close yesterday. That almost looked like jealousy.”

“What are you trying to get at, Dean?” Sam asks, trying to deflect away from it just a little. If only for his own sanity.

“I can’t believe I’m asking this,” Dean growls, before adding, “Are you and Lucifer in a relationship?”

“No, Dean. We’re not,” Sam says, mind reeling from the full implications of Dean’s words. He’d really tried not to look head-on at this looming issue. Even if it had been majorly signposted over the past few days… had it really only been a few days? His head hurt. “It’s only been days, Dean!”

“Yeah, well, you’ve both been through a lot together,” Dean says, with a scoff, “You lived his whole life, you told me, that seems like an awful lot of time to get to know someone. Neither of you has taken time to breathe the past few days. Plus, he’s hanging off you all the time, and you seem to like it. So do you want to be?”

Sam sighs and sinks onto the edge of his bed, holding his head in his hands. It’s a fair question from Dean and one he hasn’t dared think of himself. It’s been a rollercoaster of a ride and he’s barely processed some of the ways his world has been turned upside down.

“Maybe? Some day. I don’t know where we are now. I just want to see where it goes?” Sam tries. Faltering over every word. Every word is almost a surprise to himself as he speaks.

“Is the bond making you do this?” Dean asks, and Sam freezes at that, trying to think it through. It’s a valid question, and it leaves him cold.

Both he and Lucifer were big on consent, and if the bond was causing this, they’d both be traumatised? Angry? Vengeful? Probably all of the above. Sam thinks about their interactions and the way the union tugged within him. With a low relieved sigh, he realises he isn’t being influenced by the bond. It gives them options, gives Lucifer and him a way to talk that they never had before and meant they finally understood each other after all this time. It was helping them understand each other, and becoming one was a sense of completeness that couldn’t be faked. Even so, they could still be themselves; God had made sure of that.

“No, Dean,” Sam says, unable to hide his sudden relief, “No, it’s not the bond. It just-“ Sam pauses, smoothing down his hair as he tries to find the words to voice his sudden revelation, “- it helps us see each other properly, Dean. No masks, and without the mark twisting him into nothing but rage and revenge? He’s very fun company.”

To Sam’s relief, Dean leans against Sam’s desk to think about what Sam has told him. Dean actually seems to nod a few times as he evaluates it.

“So you’re alright?” Dean says, “Because I really don’t want to have another chick-flick moment like this, like ever.”

“I’m alright,” Sam says, feeling himself settle a little, “I don’t know where it will go. Or if it will go somewhere, but I think I’m alright with that?”

Dean levels a look at Sam then, capturing his gaze and holding it. Weighing over his brother’s words, Dean stands at last and pats Sam on the shoulder.

“Good talk, let's do this again… never,” Dean says, “It’s omelettes for breakfast, Sam. Don’t be late.”

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam calls after his brother before falling back on the bed. Dean has made him look at the madness head-on. It’s like a strange game of chicken, and Sam doesn’t want to be the one to blink first, and he knows no matter the outcome Lucifer would never do so himself. The twist of nervous excitement in his gut is unfamiliar but not unwelcome. He already knew it would be playing with fire to continue, but he didn’t care. He almost wanted to get burned.

Are you alright, Sam? Lucifer’s quiet question doesn’t help matters. Sam always had an addictive personality, and the sheer weight of care behind those words? He wanted to have all of Lucifer’s focus again. A quiet insanity to wonder about what it would be like for pleasure instead of… the past. Sam forces his mind away from it before his body can react in a way he’d not be able to hide.

I’m alright, Sam manages to send back, but he knows his emotional state doesn’t make him sound very convincing. Rubbing at his face, he shoves on an old hoodie against the cool of the bunker, trying to settle himself before facing the day. From facing Lucifer.

Unfortunately, he finds out how unconvincing he is when he opens the door to find Lucifer standing against the opposite wall waiting for him. One eyebrow raises as Sam leaves his room, but he doesn't invade closer to Sam’s private space until Sam’s door is closed. The moment the door clicks Sam’s back is against it as Lucifer crowds into him. Arms coming about him to hold Sam close and cushion him against the hardness of the door.

“Morning, Sam,” Lucifer whispers, his face all too close to Sam’s. It’s like being under a microscope as Lucifer so obviously inspects him. There’s a curious glint to Lucifer’s face as if Sam has become a puzzle he fully intends to solve. Sam has no intention of letting Lucifer find a solution before he’s even come to terms with it himself.

“Morning,” Sam manages, pushing back against Lucifer with one hand to his chest. Marvelling again at how easily the archangel lets himself be moved. “Dean said he was making omelettes for breakfast today. I bet you’ll like them as well.”

He can feel the annoyance behind him as he steps away, so Sam pauses, giving the angel the olive branch of his hand. The being easily takes it and accepting it for the peace offering it is. Letting Sam keep his secrets, at least for now. 

…

The next few days found Sam at the centre of a whirlwind of research. Pages of notes spilling out across the table as he cross-referenced every myth and legend, and vague rumour that the library had on hand before scouring the internet for all its secrets. The other members of the bunker helped when they could, but none, not even Lucifer after becoming him through his memories, had the staying power for how Sam worked. It didn’t help that the archangel would get distracted just to watch Sam work, marvelling at the steadfast singlemindedness the man could achieve when he had to hunt something down. It was no wonder Gabriel had only lasted six months against it.

Lucifer also watched with some interest that while Dean hated research, he doted on his brother, a level of care that was probably more useful than the older hunter staring at books. A never-ending stream of healthy snacks and meals found their way to Sam as he lost himself in the work. Always, there was a fresh drink handy, and the coffee disappeared when Sam tried to pull an all-nighter. Dean actually turning to Lucifer to convince his brother that sleep was not optional. Lucifer had delighted in Sam’s disbelieving expression when he’d leaned over the hunter to quietly sing a lullaby in his ear when it had got too late. It had convinced Sam to make his way to bed, too. Quite a victory.

Ramiel checked in frequently. The search of an entire city was going slowly, but he felt he was honing in on their target. His speed limited by keeping himself hidden enough that even a horde of gods wouldn’t notice him. His unusual presence became part of daily life in the bunker as he joined them at odd times for meals or sat with Lucifer debriefing what he’d seen in the night in case the archangel could sense any pattern he could not. When Castiel joined them on occasion, Ramiel was surprised that there was a second angel whose company he began to enjoy. The frustrated sarcasm Castiel often employed and his sharp tactical mind were both fun to provoke.

As the time rolled into a week of solid research, Dean finally broke.

“I need a hunt,” Dean exclaimed over breakfast, “If I have to stare at another book or the same walls for another day, I’m going to break something.”

“A hunt? Technically, aren’t we already on one?” Sam says, only half paying attention to the conversation over the book he’d brought to breakfast. Lucifer perched on his shoulder to read with him, but at Dean’s sound of frustration, Lucifer reached to close the book. Sam makes a deep sound of offence at that.

“You do both need a break, Sam,” Lucifer says, “Remarkably, I’m on Dean’s side on this, not yours.”

“But we need to find Gabriel,” Sam says, turning into Lucifer as if eye contact would change the archangel’s mind.

“And I don’t think I or your brother want to see you turn into a research drone to do it,” Lucifer says, giving Sam a mildly reproachful look. It’s still very effective from mere inches from Sam’s own face. “Ramiel is honing in on them, and you’ve gathered enough information. Let Ramiel follow Narfi back to the rest of the family. Then we can act.”

“But,” Sam tries, going silent as he gets matching looks from everyone else. Even Castiel seems concerned. He can already see he's faced with a losing battle.

“Go be a hunter, Sam,” Lucifer says, “It gives us a chance to test how far this bond can stretch.”

“You’re not coming?”

“If you and your brother need an archangel babysitter, I’ve been seriously misinformed,” Lucifer laughs before he softens into a more serious expression, “We all know Cas is not going to leave either of you by choice, you don’t need two angels, and it’s time I checked on heaven anyway. Can’t leave the kids alone for too long.”

Sam’s hand has latched onto Lucifer’s dark green shirt before he has even realised it. Not even managing to vocalise the denial he feels at the thought of Lucifer not being within easy reach. He ignores his brother’s snort from across the other side of the table; he doesn’t need the thoughts of the peanut gallery right now. Though as Dean opens his mouth to speak, Sam forces himself up and drags Lucifer with him from the kitchen. Feeling Lucifer’s amusement all too keenly because he knows the archangel could turn into an immovable wall if he wanted. Which he does the moment they reach the library, there is only so far an archangel will let themselves be pulled.

Lucifer sits on the edge of the library table and coaxes Sam into his arms. Holding him loosely to him as he inspects Sam’s face. Sam wonders what Lucifer sees on his face that he doesn’t already feel through the mess Sam is already feeling. Sam doesn’t even know himself.

Sam, Lucifer’s thoughts almost a caress into his mind, mixed with Lucifer’s pleasure and resignation. His voice in Sam’s head always giving Sam so much more emotion than Lucifer ever says out loud. We can’t always be in the same place.

Why not? Sam nearly growls back, all too frustrated because he knows Lucifer is talking sense. He just doesn’t like it.

We’re both too independent, Lucifer offers with a slight smirk. Besides, you know that you’ll appreciate a hunt with your brother. Just like old times, a return to normality if just for a few days. You need it and heaven needs me.

I need you, Sam sighs, a part of him wondering at his life. He needs Lucifer as much as he needs Dean these days.

And I you, Lucifer admits. His gaze on Sam turns inordinately fond, an expression only Sam ever sees before it darkens into a smirk, his hand shifting up onto the back of Sam’s head to coax him closer. Bringing his mouth close to Sam’s ear as the bond surges with sudden energy, “I’m wrapped up in your soul, Sam. You can’t ever escape me.” Lucifer gives Sam one long moment to stand in that surge of emotion, before adding as he finally pulls back, “And you’re right in here with me. We can’t escape each other. No matter how far we go.”

Sam forces himself to breathe as Lucifer seems to take one giant step forward in this strange game they’re playing. Sam’s anxiety spikes as he wonders just how much of Sam’s hidden thoughts the archangel has worked out already. So much faster than Sam had expected.

“You are not playing fair,” Sam says, his hand shifting to push at Lucifer a little in annoyance.

“Why ever would I do that, Sam?” Lucifer asks, giving Sam a playfully confused look. As he finally releases the hunter. “Go find a hunt, Sam. I’m only a thought away.”

Lucifer vanishes from before Sam. The bond is forced to compensate fast, far too fast for Sam to deal with. Sam staggers, nearly falling over at being suddenly alone in the library. Resting his hands on the surface of the table as he forces one breath and then another past the shrieking of the union between them. It’s a moment of blinding absence as the union scrambles to pull them closer together before it adapts to the new normal. A tightening in his chest that doesn’t quite pass but quickly becomes a low-level ache that Sam doubts will leave him until Lucifer returns.

You see, we’re fine, Lucifer says, and Sam can hear the ache in his own words. This separation has hurt them both.

Next time, a little warning, Sam retorts, glaring down at the table in place of Lucifer.

Agreed, Lucifer sighs, the closest the archangel was going to come to an apology.

Sam feels too numb from the distance, so he doesn’t go finish breakfast. He can't face food right now. It was time to find a damn hunt.

Sam had found a number of leads by the time Dean and Castiel came and joined him. He had at first been focused on the strange case of a crying baby leading to a mysterious death. He’d been gathering some information before Dean had entered, explaining that Jody was taking their mother out on that very case. Apparently, Dean wasn’t the only Winchester going stir crazy. That thought had managed to return the slightest of smiles to Sam’s face as he turned back to his initial searches.

“So get this, Dean,” Sam says, “A woman walked into a church in Iowa being whipped by something no one else could see. People tried to help her, but she later died of her wounds.”

“Whipped by something unseen?” Dean says, part intrigued and actually a little horrified. Moving to stand behind Sam to look at the information, “Well, looks like something in our wheelhouse.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Sam agrees.

“Well then, time to go,” Dean says, already sounding so much more energised as he heads to pack a bag. Castiel walking with him, already commenting on how little he likes the rather obvious religious imagery.

As Sam goes to pack a bag of his own, he has to admit he’s looking forward to doing something that, for them, is relatively normal. He's not about to tell Lucifer that, though. 

…

Lucifer staggered as he landed in heaven. Picking the first corridor he saw to collapse in to rest against the wall, knees drawn up close as he takes a shuddering breath. That had almost been too much. Very impulsive, he had to admit to himself as he sat there trying to recover himself. Sam feels all too far away and his grace cries at the distance. Even his wings seem to droop through the planes about him. He still finds the drive to reassure Sam as best he can. Next time, he needs to come up with something that actually resembles a plan. Though he can’t help but wonder if it hurt so much because Sam had clung so tightly to his grace every step of the way. The human has so much more control over their grace every day.

He hears a couple of his siblings rushing to come closer, and he raises a hand to forestall them. He takes another deep breath as his body calms. Even as living as Sam, the sheer weight of the biology that was so very much his was overwhelming at times. The staccato rhythm of his heart only unwillingly calmed with Sam so far away. It didn’t help that there were still so many emotions of his own he was still trying to put a name to. They were never quite the same as Sam had experienced and Lucifer was having to learn them as he went.

“Well, that’s one way to make an entrance,” Lucifer quips, forcing himself up and giving his watching siblings a bright smile that only slowly doesn't feel forced. “How are things?”

They stay silent, just watching him in absolute bafflement and more than a little worry.

“You looked in pain,” Ingrid says, and Lucifer nearly rolls his eyes at the confusion she’s radiating. Younger siblings can be so amusing, even if they are frustrating.

“Yes, well, Sam and I are still working out the rules of Father’s gift to us,” Lucifer explains, “Now, Naomi said you have some ideas. I’d like to see them and show you what I’ve been working on.”

He follows them back into the office, feeling better with every step. Lucifer looks around the austere space with a frown. This has to be the first to go. It bothers him during the entire meeting in the bleak office. Barely listening to what the angels are saying as they go over their appallingly bland and lacklustre ideas for heaven. Naomi had some from the humans at the Roadhouse, but they stink of compromise and after the fallout from leaving Sam behind, he’s feeling particularly uncompromising.

He wants to create a gift for Sam when he’s next here. He refuses to think of it as an apology because they had needed to test this before an enemy forced them to. Neither he nor the Winchesters had ever turned from a fight, and as they are now, they are the biggest target on the board. Power always meant that others would want it, no matter how unlikely they were to taste any of it.

“These are no good,” Lucifer says after another hour of interminable debates. Finally reaching for his own sketches to show them how far behind the curve all of them are. “I was thinking of something so much grander.”

Lucifer stands to spread out the vast geometrical shapes, city plans and building layouts before them all. He silences the room.

“This is insane,” Naomi bursts out, looking over it all in disbelief. “You want to redesign all of heaven?”

“Of course,” Lucifer says, giving her a smug look, “I did say you all weren’t thinking big enough.”

He reaches into the overall plan, pulling an echo it up to twist in ghostly light in the air before him. Even he thinks his design is particularly elegant. A vast series of interconnected rings orbit majestically around a centralised platform. A city edged in gardens and multiple waterfalls sits proudly in the centre, above which an amorphous sphere of light shines out to bathe all in a soft light. The only darkness given as one ring passes over another or dips beneath a platform. A day-night cycle that only heaven could maintain. All around the rings and out beyond them span the nebulae of creation in all their brilliant colour and majesty. The court hidden away in its many twists above it all and around it. Breaking the laws of physics as only heaven can. The only place in the whole design where humans would not be able to reach by some route.

“How can you give this any order?” Ingrid asks, staring appalled at the design, “There’s no true separation of anyone.”

“Well, the angels will maintain the city and only venture to the rings if needed.” Lucifer says, “And we can start small and build outwards as we go.”

“Why have the city at all?” Naomi asks.

“A human’s memories can only take them so far. The rings will give us a way to keep a form of separation while still allowing them near family and friends that still want to know them,” Lucifer says, pulling the city up into grand display, “It also means we can control how often they can go to the city and how many can be here at one time, but this means we can have all manner of entertainments and meetings places. Heaven is full of philosophers trapped in their greatest theories. What could they come up with if they could meet and argue with each other for centuries?”

Lucifer flicks the glowing image from a central library with its majestic debating plaza. a Greek edifice inside the more modern library around it, out to a theatre hall and beyond.

“What music could they create if they could put on fresh concerts? Heaven is meant to be a reward for the humans who succeed. If we trap them in the past, we’ve rewarded them with stagnation. They might as well have truly ended.” Lucifer says, thinking of Sam trapped in a box with only old books to read and past memories to stare at. That brilliant mind with nothing new to make those eyes spark with interest. A death of the mind by slow, terrible degree. He won’t have it. “We’ve already seen what happens when they have an iota of control over their heaven. I want to see what they can become with more. I want to see if I can finally see what Father saw in them.”

“They could bring chaos to heaven!” Ingrid says, shaking her head. It’s clear that all she can see are problems.

“If that’s the case, why did we ever let them in?” Lucifer retorts. “The people at the Roadhouse only want to help. The other groups that formed missed their family. If we haven’t found the humans who would rejoice at this here? Well, we won’t find them anywhere. I’m betting on Sam, though; he sees the good in humans, and sometimes he’s right. So I might not always believe in my father, but I believe in Sam.”

The other angels in the room are staring at him in surprise. It seems every time he opens his mouth he shocks them. Well, they won’t see this coming.

“Starting with these damn offices,” Lucifer growls and slams his hand out to the side. The walls surrounding them fracture and bow as his power slams into them, trembling only a moment before the entire office level disintegrates around them. It’s a wild disorientation that leaves the table and them floating in the void. It’s almost amusing how wrapped in their vessels some of his siblings are that they cling to each other as if they might fall.

He turns his back on them, his hands rising from his sides as his wings spread in determination. Unable to afford even that small distraction as he focuses on the well of power that makes him an archangel, and Sam’s soul shot through it, which makes him so much more. He draws on creation, asking heaven to work alongside his will to form what he so desired. With delight, Lucifer feels the power sing at his call, cascading through his grace like starlight before out into the space around him.

Slowly, a beachhead forms beneath his feet. The soft sound of breaking waves the only welcome the quickly forming lake gives him with its appearance. Green banks rolling away to the horizon on either side. A few trees make their stately way into being here and there. A patchwork of green life that stops the place from feeling so desolate.

Lucifer doesn’t turn, but he knows what he shall find behind him. A low-slung building of offices and meeting spaces, all in soft wood tones with large windows that showcase the new view. In the entrance hall, he adds one incongruous door. Ripping up yet more of the rulebook as he does, just because it would please Sam. Yes, heaven will be his gift to Sam. Sam will never be separated from his family again.

“How did you do that? Even one archangel couldn’t…” Naomi begins as Lucifer finishes that first burst of creation, but she trails off completely lost for words.

“Michael and I were always the most powerful,” Lucifer says idly, turning to inspect the building behind him. It is not the most elegant of structures, but it is temporary. “Michael couldn’t have done this because he lacks any vision for anything that isn’t a weapon. He also doesn’t give two shits about humans. At least I gave humanity more than a passing glance.”

Lucifer smirks a little as he sees the affront the others feel at him besmirching the oldest archangel’s name. Well, they could deal with it. At least Lucifer had been honest when it came to whether he'd follow that final order so long ago. Walking past them into the building, he approaches that special extra door. He opens it and bursts through to the other side to strike a dramatic pose that makes everyone in the room jump in shock.

“Hey, guys, miss me?”

Chapter Text

Ramiel watched Narfi for yet another day. His guise today was a waspish brunette lady with entirely forgettable features. It felt awkward overlaid over his own body, but he dealt with it. He hadn’t spent so long finding and rebuilding his original body to leave it now. The new look itched over his own, the magic a tad too close to his skin to stop it from being noticed. The nervous shifting the itch gave him only made his look more believable, so he didn’t try to stop it.

Instead, he watches Narfi on his most current date. The god seemed to have a parade of ever-changing dates of all persuasions. It even impressed Ramiel, who had his own fair share of partners throughout history. You had to get through the centuries somehow. Perhaps Ramiel was only put off by this behaviour because the date became dinner at the end. He'd yet to see Narfi not get peckish at the end.

Logically, Ramiel knew that as a demon, he should hardly be shocked at such things. Maybe. But he had lived on Earth for centuries now, and you don’t stay as off the radar as he had without going a little native. In his time, Ramiel had gone a lot native. The thought of eating your date... it actually sickened him a little.

As Narfi leaves with the woman he had been sweet-talking, Ramiel follows along behind. Idling far enough behind them and nattering away to nobody on his phone that he just seemed like a tipsy woman on the way home with a friend to talk to for support. He kept his casual gait even as the path changed from Narfi’s normal route to somewhere new. Was he finally going to be handed a victory?

Ramiel slows a little as Narfi turns into a fancy apartment building, reaching out to sense that power as it ascends to the top floor. It seems Ramiel has finally gotten lucky. This close to the building, he can feel that there are more gods inside, further proof that he’s finally found the main home of their targets. Even if there’s no trace of anything angelic. He feels a wicked smile try to form as he heads past the building and down the next street. Doubling back once he was sure he was unobserved. He's not about to let his excitement ruin so much hard work.

Turning himself completely invisible, he begins his next watch. Drifting into a shadowy alcove to sit and wait. Merging himself with the landscape to become utterly beneath anyone’s notice. Even if anyone had an inkling there was something here, they wouldn’t want to be bothered by it; they’d merely think it was someone else’s problem.

Ramiel can be patient. He has them now. He just needs their routine. A curl of anticipation runs through him as he waits. He can’t wait to see Lucifer at work again and alongside the Winchesters? If the others are anything like Narfi it’s going to be glorious to see them in their vengeance.

...

Sam had to admit there was some joy in being on a case with Dean again. That they had immediately ended up at cross purposes about what could have caused it only added to the delightful normality of it all.  He wasn’t surprised in the least that the moment they met the Wiccan Dean had decided that she must be the cause. His brother was nothing if not predictable. So, Sam had happily sent him and Castiel off to investigate Beth the Social Worker while he focused back onto the Peterson family.

Something in Sam had stirred around that family, whether it was the grace shot through him or his own instincts? He didn’t know. What Sam did know was that there was something deeply wrong about that family, and once it was dark, he was going to find out. Until then, he was trying to find out more about the family before he went back there.

Nothing he found out he liked.

They kept to themselves and were highly God fearing. After actually meeting God, Sam thought that their fear was severely misplaced. The God he knew was more likely to cause deep frustration than anything else. You only had to look at the gift he and Lucifer had been given to see that. There was always small print somewhere. Sam also thought that anyone who based their life around fearing God to define themselves? They usually had something to hide. At least in his line of work.

That he’d shared his frustrations with Lucifer while the family had been going all religious at him and Dean? It had been hard to keep a straight face as Lucifer went on a rant about humanity and their use of religion as an excuse to be terrible to others. Even with the smug overtone from the archangel about how it just proved him right about all too many humans, it didn’t dent the delight Sam had felt.

When night fell, Sam crept across the grounds of the house. The same uncomfortable feeling from earlier was making his skin crawl. Something here was deeply wrong, and he had to find out what it was. The basement window drew him in, and with some care, he crouched to look into the space they hadn’t been able to scope out earlier. It didn’t take more than a second to see that disturbing tableau to know he was completely correct. He darts back to call Dean; he knows he's going to need some backup to deal with this mess.

In another universe, Sammy gets interrupted on the phone with his brother. In that universe, Sam is taken down by a blow to the head as he tries to talk the psychic’s brother down. What a difference a little grace makes.

“Okay, listen to me, we can help your sister. I just need you to trust me here,” Sam says, trying to pour as much honesty into his words as he can. Imploring with the young man with the shotgun before him, because surely he has to see what Sam saw in the basement is wrong.

Sam’s head moves before he even realises he’s doing it. Twisting down as his body shifts to the left, his hand rises to stop the piece of timber heading directly for his face. Both he and Abraham Peterson share a look of absolute shock for one heart-stopping second before Sam wrenches the wood from the man’s hands. “She’s your daughter, you have to see this is wrong!”

“The devil is inside her,” Abraham says, as Elijah stands nervously to one side. Not yet a danger, but not entirely safe either. “Through her, he has murdered people. She must be punished.”

“The devil,” Sam says, unable to stop himself from smirking a little at the thought of Lucifer caring enough about any humans to do this, even before the mark was removed. “You really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, it is you who does not know!” A voice cries to the side of Sam as Gail Peterson rounds the side of the house, knife in hand. “My daughter is evil, and you will not bring more of Satan’s influence to this house!”

Sam took a couple of slow steps back as he took in the knife she was holding. He hoped his brother and Castiel would get there soon and wished, not for the first time, that Dean wasn’t so against his car being moved by angels.

“Your daughter just has a power you don’t understand,” Sam tries to explain, “She needs to be taught how to use it, not punished. Look, she only hurts people because she’s so traumatised! Anyone would lash out like that!”

“Your words are lies sent to twist us from heaven,” Gail continues, only becoming more erratic as she approaches. “The devil tries to reach this family, and we will not be taken. It did not work through our daughter, and it will not work through you!”

Sam slams a hand up as she moves, reaching to stop her as she lunges at him with the knife. She never reaches him. Her body frozen in mid-air, inches from his face. Even as Sam watches her he can see her shaking with the effort to move. Her fear only makes her more and more erratic as she stays fixed in place before him, her eyes growing wilder. As he focuses, he can feel the thrum of the grace beneath his skin and reaching through his arm. Answering to his need. It feels so much more natural than his scant attempts when under the influence of demon blood.

The gun cocks again to his left, and without thinking, he pulls it from the brother’s grip. Yanking it from Elijah’s hands to sail through the air into his own. Abraham falls back before him, muttering about the devil’s work even as he does so. He doesn’t do anything more, though. The family was utterly terrified in their religious fervour.

“No one is killing anyone today,” Sam says, his voice dropping into the serious edge he only gets on hunts. Lowering his right hand carefully as he realises he doesn’t need his hand up to keep the woman in place. He unloads the shotgun into the grass around him before tossing it aside. “I’ve met God and all this? He’d be as creeped out as I am.”

He can see it too, the slight frown and curl of lip on Chuck’s face as the God who shuffled into their kitchen in a dressing gown to eat Chinese at all hours would fail to process what was happening. He can hear the ‘Why would I care?’ as well, in that oddly nervous tone.

Sam can see his words are having zero effect, but then he didn’t expect anything less from people devoted to their own delusions. A mother traumatised by her daughter having strange powers and harming her, using religion as a crutch to explain it and blame her forever. Save her or kill her. It’s frighteningly familiar in purpose. For a moment, he falters, but then he remembers how well Dean has taken to everything so far, it’ll be alright.

“You’re with the Devil,” Gail says, channelling everything into a rant at Sam as she is forced to stand there. “You are the devil’s work, and we will not listen to your words, snake.”

“No, we’re not doing this,” Sam sighs and gestures at the woman, forcing her mouth closed with this new control of grace he now has. It’s strange and familiar all at once, like the return of an old friend. For one insane moment, he thinks about calling Lucifer down. Nothing like putting the fear of God into them like Lucifer himself. He only doesn’t because he doesn’t want there to be three dead bodies to have to explain away. If he’s having issues with this family, then the archangel would probably take their souls straight to hell to make a point.

Sam turns to the two men who have been trembling as they look at him in terror. It’s clear that Gail is the power in this family. Everything pivoted around her.

“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Sam says firmly, “You’re going to release your daughter, and I’m going to take her away somewhere safe. You’re not going to try and find her, or me.”

“You will make her the devil’s whore!” Abraham says, his anger overcomes his fear as he tries to advance into Sam’s face in some strange intimidation. He doesn’t get far as Sam’s frustration peaks, and he sends him and his son down to the ground to sit unmoving. The power just comes so easily now he’s found it. His head doesn’t even hurt.

“She’s your daughter,” Sam exclaims, utterly done with this family, “Unbelievable.”

He stalks past them into the house. Picking the lock on the basement to find Magda curled up and looking at him in shock from the floor.

“Hi Magda, I’m Sam,” he says, crouching down a little as he approaches her, not getting too close, “I’m here to help you. Your family can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I’m not Magda, I’m the devil. I’m evil. I deserve it,” Magda whispers, curling further in on herself, and Sam fights the urge to call for Lucifer again. It might have been easier for him, but it wouldn't be for Magda.

“You’re not evil and you’re not the devil, Magda,” Sam says, “You’ve just been hurt and have powers you don’t understand yet.”

“I hurt people,” Magda says, “I tried to get help. I tried to reach out to them, but mother tells me they died. That I killed them.”

“If you come with me, we can take you somewhere safe. My brother and I, we hunt monsters. You’re not a monster. Once you have control, you’ll never have to worry about hurting anyone again,” Sam says, “There are so many people out there who have powers and none of them are the devil either. They use their powers to help people, so can you.”

Magda doesn’t say anything, but there’s hope in her eyes. A fragile, tentative hope, and it kills Sam to see. She’s been through so much at the hands of her family, but there’s still that innocent hope that all their torment couldn’t kill.

“How do you know?” Magda asks, glancing from Sam to the cross that dominates one wall of the room and back again.

“I’ve seen evil, Magda. You’re not it,” Sam says, and he pulls off his jacket to wrap around her shoulders as he suddenly has an armful of crying teenager. Guiding her slowly through the house and out into the night.

“You alright there, Sammy?” Dean calls, and Sam relaxes at last as he sees his brother approaching. Castiel not far behind him standing guard over the family with a curious look on his face. He can feel the angel’s gaze boring into the side of his face as he focuses on his brother.

“Magda has power and they were torturing her for it,” Sam explains, “She can’t stay here.”

“Looks like we needed to know about Beth after all,” Dean says with a shrug, turning a little more to Beth to give her a reassuring smile, “You’re going to be alright now. How about we get you sat down in my car while we call some people to help.”

Sam ushers Magda over into Dean’s hands. Watching them shuffle towards the car a moment before heading over towards Castiel and the three stuck-in-place family members.

“You accessed the grace,” Castiel states, gesturing at the family. It’s clear the angel has been studying his handiwork.

“Being attacked is very motivating,” Sam says, “That and they were talking about heaven like what they were doing would get them there. They used God as an excuse for everything.”

Castiel looks over Sam’s shoulder at the traumatised girl sitting in the car and scoffs. The angel turned with a look of scornful disbelief at the three in front of him. Then, taking in the shotgun shells and the knife still frozen in the woman’s hand. His low opinion of the family is clear in every action.

“I’m surprised you didn’t call him in.”

“I think he would have taken the phrase heavenly retribution all too literally,” Sam sighs, rubbing at the back of his head a little. Turning to the family, he adds with a vain hope, “Now I’m going to release you and we’re going to have a civilised discussion about things.”

Sam reaches down to pry the knife from Gail and puts it into his belt before he finally frees them from his hold. It sends an odd shudder through the grace within him, almost as if it’s upset that it’s no longer being used.

“God’s will shall see you punished for your actions!” Gail says, immediately launching into another diatribe as her family falls around her. “None shall escape his judgement.”

“Oh, for goodness' sake,” Castiel growls, rolling his eyes, and Sam already knows what he’s going to do before he does it. The shadow of large angel wings spreads out across the ground behind him, the true presence of them shimmering in the air as his eyes light with grace. It’s an intimidating and very definite display. There's no mistaking the presence of an angry angel, no matter who you are. “You are completely and utterly wrong.”

Sam has to force back a laugh as the three before him scramble back, only to fall to their knees. Their religion-induced fears turned to true fear in the face of angelic reality.

“In God’s name,” Abraham manages before realising what he said and going quiet.

“I told you I’d met him,” Sam is unable to resist adding, and he can’t help the sharp feeling of delight as the people in front of him flinch.

In the end, it’s rather remarkable what the sight of an angel will do even for people like the Peterson’s. It had been easy to have them admit everything they had done to Magda, minus the powers, to Beth and the police. They also easily signed over full custody to the state and eventually to Magda’s aunt. There was going to be a criminal case, but that wasn’t an issue either with Castiel’s harsh warnings over just how far they had to come to find heaven again. You don’t get to heaven by torturing your family after all. Sam wondered if they’d only turned them religiously fervent in another potentially dangerous way, but couldn’t find it in himself to care. Magda was going to be safe now.

…

So, Cas put them in their place? Lucifer’s voice was a laugh in the back of Sam’s mind as he sat drinking a beer to their success at the motel they stopped at that night. The ache in his chest at the distance between them easing somewhat as he sat at the motel table looking blankly out the window.

“And I got comments about Cas and my more profound bond,” Dean gripes from across him before his brother disappears to the nearby bar. Sam ignores him; it's only fair that he got a little angelic payback of his own after the years he’s had to put up with his brother and Castiel.

That he did. If he’d been any more annoyed, he’d have blinded them all with the true vision of his wings, Sam snorts, drinking more of the beer as he uses Dean’s vacated chair as a foot rest. He feels Lucifer’s thoughts on that as the angel merely sends him the deep impression of a smirk. He knows Lucifer wouldn’t think their eyes a great loss on any day. There’s something that’s been quietly bothering him for hours, so he has to ask, How much more do you think I’ll be able to do with the grace? I don’t even feel tired from what I did tonight.

I don’t know Sam, Lucifer sighs, You’ve always been a conduit for power. Now you have grace wrapped through your soul. There’s never been anything like us before. Does it really matter?

How long until I’m no longer human? Sam whispers the thought, almost unwilling to voice it even to himself. He hadn’t let him feel when he worked; saving Magda had been far more important. The quiet of the motel room gives him far too much time to process, though, and it’s hard not to fall into anxiety about it all.

You have a soul, Sam, Lucifer says. His tone is firm as the weight of his hand ghosts onto Sam’s shoulder. Am I any less an archangel for having some of your soul? You’ll never not be human to some degree. The feeling of the hand tightens, becoming more real as even from heaven, Sam feels the full weight of Lucifer’s attention on him. You’re just becoming something more, and you always have been to me.

For a moment, Sam just sits in that sudden wave of comfort. Steadied if not entirely reassured. He shakes himself a little. He needs to think about other things.

How is heaven?

Oh, I’m having great fun terrorising my siblings, Lucifer’s words collapsing into a deep laugh at the end, I’ve almost made a game out of breaking as many rules and traditions as I can. I think I made Ingrid cry the other day.

What did you do? Sam asks, unable to stop the fond eye roll at Lucifer’s antics.

I made her work with Ash. They share an office now.

The silence of the motel room is broken as Sam hunches over laughing. He can only imagine the look on any staid angel’s face at having to work with Ash. He was a character all by himself, and there’s no way any angel beyond Castiel was in any way prepared for that.

Charlie tries to mediate where she can, but I think Ingrid annoys her, too. For a caretaker, she’s rather inflexible. A little human corruption will be good for her, Lucifer continues, adding to Sam’s quiet laughter. Lucifer’s rolling delight at having shifted Sam’s bad mood only adds to it.

I’m shocked you think some human corruption is good, Sam manages, turning to look back out the window with a smile.

We both know I think those of the Roadhouse are a brilliant exception, and any that make it to heaven have to be worth something, Lucifer retorts, affecting offence, but it’s so clear he’s putting it on.

Well, we have to start you somewhere, Sam says with an amused glint to his eye where Lucifer can’t see it.

…

As Sam falls to sleep, the bond sinking into the long quietude of his rest, Lucifer finally relinquishes his hold on his worry. Sam’s swift access to his grace was unexpected. He knew that Sam would have gained some control eventually. With Sam’s history, it was impossible to think he’d have all that power inside him and not use it. It was the speed of it. Even new angels took years to understand how to use the grace they were made from. Sam had done it in weeks. Yes, he had Lucifer’s memories to help him, but new angels were born with all the knowledge they needed as well.

Lucifer felt they were going to have to rewrite all of the rulebooks when it came to what Sam and he were capable of now, let alone what they became as Samael. Even now, heaven was telling him that Sam was far more strongly connected to the realm than he had been before. Using the grace had done something, and Lucifer couldn’t work out what. Perhaps he just didn’t want to consider the consequences. It was no secret that there was a positive feedback loop between heaven and the angels.

Lucifer had meant what he said when he’d called Sam human, but he wasn’t just human now. Heaven was also a well of power that Sam was irrevocably connected with. Not for the first time since his return to heaven without Sam, he found himself silently cursing his father. The apology had been appreciated, but he could really do with some advice or guidance.

Most of all, he wished he could talk to Gabriel. He was sure his brother, who had spent so much more time around humans, would have ideas. He hoped wherever he was that he was alright, while knowing that he almost certainly wasn’t.

…

“-No, I’ve got this. It seems the Winchesters might be more trouble than we thought. I’ll be in touch,” Ketch says, hanging up the phone and following the girl into the bathroom.

Someone needed to clean up the Winchesters’ mess.  

Chapter Text

Dean woke to a soft thump and a quiet huff that was always the hallmark of a frustrated Sam. Cracking one eye open, he watches as a pen soars back into Sam’s hand only for it to power towards the only comfy chair in the place near the TV. Landing flat against the cushion and falling onto the seat as Sam runs his hands through his hair in slight frustration.

“What did that pen do to annoy you, Sammy?” Dean asks, not his best humour, but sue him, it’s early and he’s had no coffee. He watches Sam go through the usual routine of freezing guiltily before slowly relaxing as he looks to him.

“I’m trying to aim it like Lucifer can,” Sam says, gesturing at the pen that flies back to him. His other hand drumming on the table aimlessly for a minute, “I know how to do this, I’ve lived learning it. It’s just not working for me.”

Dean rubs a hand over his face as he wonders at the lack of coffee in his life when answering difficult questions. “Well, he didn’t learn in a human body, did he?” Dean feels very proud of himself for that.

“Maybe you’re right,” Sam sighs, looking down at the pen spinning slowly above his palm, “At least I tried it with a pen first and not a knife.”

“Yeah, try explaining to Lucifer that you stabbed yourself,” Dean snorts, forcing himself upright as he gives Sam a shit-eating grin and gets a bitchface in return. “If you do, please let me be there when you tell him.”

“He’d feel it through the bond, Dean,” Sam says, and the way Dean’s face lights up shows that was not the retort he’d hoped it would be.

“Oh, good, immediate results then,” Dean laughs, getting up and casually shoving on a pair of worn jeans and an overshirt. “I’m going to get coffee and breakfast. You can have the first shower, if only so we don’t get a breakfast made of leaves.”

“Salad is good for you, Dean,” Sam says, even as Dean looks at him skeptically before leaving the motel room.

Sam shakes his head even though Dean can’t see it and finally lets the pen rest back on the table. He might as well take advantage of the fact that he’ll be the one to ruin his brother’s day with less hot water. That and enjoy the ease that Dean’s so easy acceptance of his powers brings. It’s one thing to know logically that it will be alright, quite another to have it there clear as day. With Dean and Lucifer at his back, he feels like he can do anything now, and that has nothing to do with the grace he can feel humming within him. It’s a presence that almost, but not quite, manages to ease the ache from the archangel being so far away.

Idly, he strips off his nightwear and steps into the shower cubicle. He’s grateful that it’s not a bath combo, so he doesn’t have to hunch under the shower head. The pressure isn’t the best, but the water is warm, and at this time of the morning, it’s refreshing. He finds himself wondering if Lucifer has tried the delights of a shower for himself yet. He leaned against the shower wall, bracing his hands before him as he let the water rinse the suds from his hair.  Would he find a shower as soothing as Sam, or would this be another way they find their own way forward despite the memories?

It’s odd to have gone from being so terrified of someone to being so obsessed. He could try and blame the obsessive nature of it all on Lucifer, but he knows he has always been like this and Lucifer’s attention is hard not to crave now that it’s so focused on him and so benevolently. He hasn’t spoken to him yet today, but he can feel that Lucifer is heavily distracted by something up in heaven, yet he already craves their conversation.

Trying not to think on his actions, Sam’s hand drifts between his legs to find himself already growing hard. Tightening his hand around the girth of his cock as he bites at his lip. His mind runs between the rational side of himself and the need that seems to come with every thought of Lucifer these days. The curl of nervous anticipation in his gut forces his eyes closed as he caresses himself slowly. The threat of being caught only adds to the pleasure that pulses loud in his veins. He doesn’t want to be noticed just as much as he does.

Slipping closer to the wall to rest his head against his forearm, he gives in to the need. Slowly pulling his hand along the growing heat of his length. Feeling the hard heat of his arousal against his palm, so much hotter than the warmth of the shower. Fighting to keep his thoughts quiet even as his breaths become louder with every languid tug at himself. Quiet gasps adding to the sound of the of the water pounding against his neck and back.

It’s not often he gives in to the need; his life doesn’t lend itself well to it, but now he’s almost desperate to fall over that edge that’s creeping ever closer. He slips his thumb around the head of his cock as he pulls his wrist upward, and his knees shake from the pleasure. The image of it being Lucifer’s hand and not his own blazes into his mind, and there’s no turning away from it. Sam’s mouth opens in a low groan as his hand tightens further around his cock, moving more harshly now. Trying to imagine the fierceness of the archangel.

There’s no pretending that any attention from Lucifer would be anything but overwhelming. But would he do so physically, or torment Sam with whispered words into his ear? Both make Sam’s blood heat with need. The archangel is nothing but creative, and Sam can almost feel the cool lines of him against his back, that smug smile against his shoulder as his hand moves. Gripping him just too tightly or not enough. Fuck. He moves his hand in a fierce staccato along his length. His hips jerking into his hand every time he twists his hand down towards the base of his cock.

Arousal rings loud in his ear as his balls tighten at the need. The glide of his hand just on the edge of being too rough as the edge approaches. His toes fighting for purchase as they curl against the shower tray. Sam’s whole body sought the end as his focus narrowed down to his hand on his cock and the flickering images of Lucifer in his mind.

Lucifer’s sudden presence in his mind hits like a knife, almost sending Sam to his knees as he teeters on the precipice. Grace lighting up his veins like static as Lucifer’s slow smirk filling his mind runs thicker than blood through his veins. Sam forgets to breathe, hand frozen in place on his shaft as he near drowns under the sheer weight of that presence in his mind. Even all the way from heaven, it was devastating.

Don’t stop on my account, Sam, Lucifer’s words are more gentle than a caress. The slow ghost of a hand shifting down the arm that held his cock. A slow, sinuous drag from shoulder to elbow that had no business being that arousing. It shouldn’t have made his blood turn to fire in his veins. His hand moves almost without permission, a slow and steady pace to bring him back to the ledge that he’d been so cruelly wrenched back from before. That’s it, Sam.

The slight praise makes Sam twitch in his own hold, teeth biting harshly into his lip again to hold back a whimper that dies unbidden on his tongue. His mind blank of anything but Lucifer’s presence and the growing speed of his own hand. Nearly choking on the deep satisfaction and pleasure Lucifer swamps him with in turn, and that makes his balls ache to free him of the need that makes his vision swim.

The edge taunts him with its closeness as he gives up all pretence. There may be consequences later, he doesn’t know, doesn’t care, rocking into his hand with abandon as Lucifer croons words he can’t even translate into his mind. It’s glorious in its perfection, but he needs more or needs it to end.

Cum Sam.

The words punch into his gut. Not so much taking him over the edge as pushing him forcibly over. The pleasure whiting out his brain as his cock pulses in his hand. His knees give in as he loses the battle with gravity. Only that delicious fall into ecstasy was important as his hand moved in easy strokes. Keeping that burst of pleasure going until that too becomes too much.

In creeping bursts, his awareness returns, head pressed tight to the wall and his knees aching beneath him. The ghostly sensation of Lucifer’s hand on his shoulder strangely settles him even as his anxiety twists within him in coiling embarrassment.

That will be much more fun in person, Lucifer muses in his mind. His tone was casual, but oh so proprietorial. There’s no question in Lucifer’s tone, everything pure promise and expectation for the future.

You think? Sam tries to retort, but there’s no hiding the burst of hopefulness in his tone.

Oh, Sam, that’s a promise, Lucifer growls, and the slight feel of teeth against the back of Sam’s neck has his body rising with need all over again.

I can’t, not again, Sam groans, and he forces himself to his feet to clean the evidence away even as Lucifer’s gaze stays fixed on him with that same intense smirk as before.

There’s no real hiding from where this is going anymore, but there’s no dread behind that thought. It’s almost peaceful. A resolution that had been itching beneath the skin since the moment the bond spilled them into each other. An inevitability he’d much rather give in to now than fight for no purpose.

I hope I didn’t choose a bad moment, Sam says at last as he turns the shower off. Grateful that Lucifer hasn’t left him to his stew in his thoughts alone.

I wouldn’t say that. I’m just watching our most recent prisoner sleep up here, Lucifer says, his tone idly amused, even if the frustration beneath it is new.

A prisoner? What happened?

One of my brothers decided to get creative with orders, Lucifer says, and Sam doesn’t need any projection to feel the eyeroll those words are spoken with. I think you’d appreciate why, though. Turns out the Men of Letters had noticed your most recent pet project. Sam’s blood runs cold at that, pausing in rubbing his hair down to stare into the mirror at his paling expression. He didn’t think… none of them had. Thankfully, Lucifer continues, We did have a tail on the hunter they sent to deal with her. He panicked, and now we have a new prisoner. It’s much better than your psychic being dead, but it does give us a problem.

Sam runs through the mess of it all in his mind and can’t stop a wince at the issue before giving a resigned nod. He’d much prefer Magda alive than the Men of Letters not missing an operative. They’d work with what they had.

What are you going to do with him?

Toy with him a bit. Then have a rifle through his thoughts. Lucifer replies, Honestly, until your… distraction… I was going to be far more cruel to him. This mess my brother landed us with had made me quite put out.

Despite himself, Sam flushes as he hangs up his towel and heads out to get dressed. Focusing on what he needed to as a hunter rather than on being so naked, it was far too late for that. It doesn’t help him when there is the definite sensation of Lucifer looking him over deliberately, slowly, as he searches for a fresh shirt in his bag.

Stop that, Sam says, trying for firm, We’re meant to be having a serious conversation here.

Yes, Sam, so serious, Lucifer laughs, You think I care how much the Men of Letters worry about things? My hand is only restrained in killing them all in as many creative ways as I can, only because I want to make sure none of the little rats escape my clutches.

Lucifer, these are trained humans who have knowledge of angels and us. They’re more than just annoying humans. Sam almost snaps.

Archangel Sam. You know how different we are from normal angels.

Yeah? Well, holy oil and a banishing sigil still work on you. Sam’s voice is almost a whisper; he doesn’t even want to think about Lucifer being caught that way.

We should totally test those together soon, Lucifer says, instead of acknowledging Sam’s worry. I have a theory.

…

Dean finds Castiel already in the diner when he arrives. The angel in the surprising, but familiar, company of his brother Inias. It’s a shock, and Dean has the uncomfortable Déjà vu of the time before Purgatory before he shakes himself. He and Castiel had grown a lot since then, and he knows he can trust the angel so much more. He grabs a coffee and orders the food to go before joining the table with the two angels. If he sits a little closer to Castiel than necessary, that’s his business.

“Morning, folks. What’s making you both look so serious on such an overcast day?” Dean says, sipping at his coffee as he watches their equal expressions of annoyance with amusement. Now that the angels were on their side with Lucifer overseeing them all, it’s going to be all too much fun to tease them all whenever they’re around. Cas is just fun to tease.

After they had relayed the story of the Men of Letters’ operative, he felt far less amused, but he couldn’t help but shrug a little.

“She’s still alive, so that’s a victory to me. They just can’t go around killing people because they were traumatised,” Dean scoffs. It’s a lesson Sam has had to teach him over the years, and he sees the nuance of it all now, even more so after the Mark of Cain. Some things people need the opportunity to move on from. Magda was the perfect example of that.

“Yes, well, now we’re going to be bothered by more angels down here,” Castiel says, his voice deeper than usual with his upset, “Lucifer has decided that the angels down here need more eyes on them, so I’ve been made his official right hand.”

“It’s an honour,” Inias says, slightly shocked by Castiel’s reluctance. “You are a natural choice.”

“You think so?” Castiel says, managing a rather good deadpan expression at Inias. Dean tries not to drown himself in his coffee from laughing. He rather thinks Lucifer is just sharing the frustration around. He well knows Lucifer already rates Castiel higher than all the other angels. Any role he’s given Castiel is to control the other angels. It’s a comment on his siblings, not on Castiel. He gives Castiel a nudge with his shoulder, and the look he gets is part frustration and part agreement. It’s perfection, and it sets Dean laughing again. Smiling up at the waitress as his food is finally ready to return to Sam. It definitely seemed like today was going to be a good day.

…

Lucifer relaxed in the chair as he watched the man still passed out in the cell before him. His arms rested on the back of the chair as he leaned his chest against it. His body still glowed with the attentions he had given Sam only moments ago, and it was a direct contrast to the frustration of the rest of his day. It was good to have something to focus on that wasn’t just tearing the person before him apart.

It was easy to recognise Ketch from the memories he had torn out of Toni’s head. She didn’t have the best opinion of him either, and that truly tanked his view on this particular Man of Letters. The ruthlessness shocked even him; at least he limited his to one species. Their genocidal tendencies were one of the hallmarks of humanity that had made him want to pull every human apart in recompense for the rest of creation.

He feels it the moment the man wakes up. There’s no outer sign of any change, but it’s clear to the angel that the man is awake and taking in what he can of his situation. Few species would have realised Ketch was awake, and it would be impressive if Lucifer wasn’t so scornful of him. Instead, running a finger over his lips, Lucifer ponders how best to correct the man’s mistake. Smirking as the bolt of electricity he sends the man’s way forces an unwilling yelp from him and gets him moving.

“Good Morning, Ketch,” Lucifer laughs, settling further onto the back of that chair as the man moves into a more defensive position.

“Who are you? Where am I?” Ketch says, voice cautious. His eyes flicked about the featureless cell he occupies, so very obviously looking for exits and evaluating all his options.

“Those are both very interesting questions,” Lucifer says, smirking at Ketch. He does love to bait the hook. Why go straight to the main course when you can watch them squirm instead? To his delight, Ketch doesn’t say anything, just rises to his feet fully to place the wall of the cell at his back, watching Lucifer in turn. He lets the moment sit into a yawning chasm before he adds, “I am Lucifer and this is the jail of Heaven.”

“Lucifer,” Ketch says, and his tone is one of acute disbelief, “In heaven. I don’t-“

Lucifer snaps his fingers as his annoyance spikes again. Ketch collapses to the floor in a heap as he tries to take a breath and fails. There’s nothing left to breathe with. Lucifer watches him for a long minute as the man squirms on the floor searching for oxygen he can’t take in. It disgusts him that it was done to Sam, but it is fun watching Ketch go through it.

“Such a shame Zachariah isn’t around to thank for that,” Lucifer says idly, thinking of one ‘brother’ he would have loved to rend apart had Dean not already beaten him to the punch. He lazily snaps his fingers again and watches as Ketch gasps in lungfuls of air.  “I’m sure you’d want to thank him as well, Ketch. He wasn’t the most inventive of my brothers, but it was one of his few ideas in his long life.”

He watches as Ketch’s hand moves stealthily on the side that Lucifer can’t see, and he waits to see the human’s disappointment. Halfway through the sigil that was being drawn on the floor, the blood evaporates away. Heaven’s jail is not built to let anyone find a way out. There’s a certain delight in seeing the baffled look on Ketch’s face that the human tries to hide. It’s a good mask, but Lucifer can see right through it.

“Whoops,” Lucifer smirks, “Did that not work? Such a shame.”

The stare he gets from Ketch is so much more aggressive, but underneath, there’s the dawning realisation of just where he is and the depth of his problem. Lucifer lets his smirk darken into something far more violent. Feeding his desire for vengeance on the Men of Letters into this one man. A temporary proxy for his rage. Sam was his, now even more than ever.

“One, two, three,” Lucifer counts, and with each number, one of the offending fingers from the attempted drawing breaks under the power of his grace. Twisting into shapes that make even Ketch take in a shuddering breath. He gives the man a moment to sit in the pain before he breaks three on the opposite hand, “I don’t want things to be unbalanced after all.”

Ketch collapses back completely to the floor as his hand no longer bears his weight. A war between shock and aggression playing out in his eyes. It’s fascinating to watch, and Lucifer wonders over just how effective their training must be, especially to have a soul so black and still be functioning. That they’re such ruthless hunters is probably the only reason they’re not constantly swarmed by tricksters. It also makes him the perfect target for Lucifer’s aggression; he’s so close to demonic already.

“What do you want?” Ketch asks, the words still have that measured, English edge, and Lucifer is briefly impressed.

“What do I want? Nothing that you could give me beyond your suffering, Ketch,” Lucifer says, tone overly bright as he stands and approaches the cage bars. Walking through them as if they were never there, this place was never meant to cage archangels, and his smile brightens as Ketch tenses with every step closer. He crouches down before the man to bring his face up a little with one finger beneath his chin. It pleases him how much the man squirms under his power. Lucifer was hardly going to give him any chance to move away.

Lucifer dives into Ketch’s mind as brutally as he took Toni’s. Ransacking it for every piece of information as his victim’s body twitches and writhes on the floor. It’s a terrible process done this way, and as with Toni, the man succumbs to screams within moments. They echo in the recesses of the prison. Trapped inside, away from the souls and angels outside. A private, insidious moment between himself and this waste of a human. His wings shift over the walls in liquid shadows as he works, siphoning off the excess power of his grace so he doesn’t immediately fry the man alive.

It is a fascinating journey through the life of a torturer and assassin. That he was sent here to find information about the Winchesters and decide how to deal with them only seals his fate. The man marked now as a threat to heaven, the Winchesters and God’s mandate to Lucifer. It’s permission to act on a wildly grand scale for the archangel, and he would revel in it if his anger weren’t so stoked.

“So, you were sent to be a spy on my Winchesters,” Lucifer hisses as he lets the man fall back to the floor. There’s no bravado now. Unbridled fear on the face of the man beneath him at the rising of an angry archangel. Lucifer tips him over with one foot to plant it onto his chest as he rises to stare down at him with slowly reddening eyes.

“Y-Your Winchesters?” Ketch can’t help but ask, confusion and fear turning his brain into a pained chemical soup that leaves his teeth chattering against his control. One hand rising to grasp at that foot on his chest as it presses him into the floor, even if every moment is excruciating with his broken fingers. “T-they don’t-t seem to b-be the type to agree to this.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lucifer says, taking the time to plan his next move, “Sam would take one look at your soul and rule you out. You look like one of my demons, Ketch.” He grins down at him then, broad and wide and filled with terrible delight at his next revelation, “And do you know something else about them? They’re not here.”

The sound of three ribs cracking beneath his foot is covered by the sudden scream from the man under his foot. Anyone who thought an angel was a creature of mercy had been severely misinformed.

…

On their return to the bunker, Castiel and Sam had quickly retreated to the firing range to try out Sam’s new ability with someone who knew what they were doing.

“I think Dean was actually right in his assessment,” Castiel is forced to admit as he watches Sam throw the weighted wooden knives they had brought to practice with. Sam has to hide a small laugh at how difficult that was for the angel to admit. “Your grace seems to be moving as I’d expect it to, you’re just… Well, Sam, it appears you’re looking for arms you don’t have.”

“What do you suggest then?” Sam asks, he remembers some of what Lucifer used to look like, extra arms are hardly a surprise.

“You’re skilled with a blade, Sam,” Castiel says after a moment's thought, “You’re just going to have to get better at throwing knives, at least to give you something analogous to work with. Beyond that, I don’t know how to help you. Knife throwing was never something I was particularly into myself. Of course, you could always ask Lucifer to train you.”

“I was actually hoping to surprise him,” Sam sighs, his voice softening as he speaks, “The last time we spoke about all this, I was still nervous about what it all means for me. He gave me a better perspective.”

“Looks like I’m up then,” Dean’s voice comes from behind them. The older hunter leaning against the door frame, watching them with a small smile. Stepping closer to clap Sam on the shoulder, “We’ll have you throwing knives with the best of them, young padawan.”

“And you say I’m a nerd,” Sam says, voice quiet and only gaining a suspicious look from Dean.

It’s a remarkably normal couple of hours. Dean’s training of technique of Sam quickly expanded to Castiel. The core of the modern Winchester family finally spending much-needed all together. It was how Ramiel found them. Sam stood to one side as Castiel and Dean bickered friendily about knife-fighting techniques that threatened to spill out towards the gym. Sam had no desire to stop them, as perhaps it might finally get the two to act.

“I take it Lucifer isn’t back yet?” Ramiel asks, carefully sliding to stand at Sam’s side to avoid the congenial arguing.

“No, not yet. Something came up,” Sam smirks, and the slight edge to it clearly surprises the demon. “What’s up?”

“I believe I have enough intel to act. I need to discuss with you and Lucifer, of course.”

“You’ve found them all?” Sam asks, his focus entirely on the prince now. Guiding him away from the other two occupied people and toward the library.

“Found and watched. Loki and Sleipnir never leave the penthouse. Narfi comes and goes, but has started staying closer to the penthouse. I was worried I’d been spotted, but he’s just started bringing food home for his old man.” Ramiel explains, “Fenrir seems to wander the building. I’ve not felt anything like an archangel or angel in the building. I pulled the floor plans from the local offices on my way back.”

“We did think that would be unlikely,” Sam sighs, “But him not leaving seems strange for a trickster.”

“Lucifer being out and about has to be making the waves. You’ve hardly been subtle.”

“The return of an archangel to God’s grace was never going to be subtle,” Sam says, “We’ve still got the element of surprise there, though. If you set up what you have, I’m going to go talk to Lucifer.”

Sam manages to fight back the flush that creeps up his neck as Ramiel raises an eyebrow at him knowingly. Instead, Sam slips away to the nearest room that isn’t under threat of other people before passing on the details of the conversation to Lucifer in one quick burst. There’s no contest in what will hold Lucifer’s attention, and the bond twists in his chest as Lucifer takes flight. Reappearing before Sam with a heated gaze.

For one heartbeat, they stare each other down until quite deliberately Lucifer takes one long step towards Sam and then another. Forcing him to back up until Sam's back is flush against the wall. Barely giving Sam a moment to breathe before his mouth descends on Sam. There’s nothing gentle or unsure about the kiss. Lucifer’s hands rising to the wall on either side of him as Sam’s own hands clutch at the archangel’s jacket. Sam fights back with an equal rising passion as the bond floods with a dizzying mix of their desires.

As with so much of Lucifer’s actions, it is possessive, the being coaxing Sam’s mouth open to lick inside. Claiming every inch of Sam he can find. Sam is unsure which of them groans; it hardly matters. The jacket not enough support as he reaches to find Lucifer’s hair, his waist, anything to give him more grounding against the onslaught. It’s as bewildering an amount of passion as he had expected and so much more. Missing the kiss even before he breaks it to breathe. Forcing air back into his lungs, even as Lucifer pushes his head to the side to kiss along his neck to his ear.

“Honey, I’m home,” Lucifer purrs into his ear. That dark tone that would send others fleeing, only making Sam weak at the knees again. Looking anywhere but at Lucifer’s face to gather himself.

“I see you brought work home with you,” Sam manages to reply, his eyes fixed on the traces of blood on Lucifer’s jeans. It disappears almost immediately, Lucifer’s wince at Sam seeing it almost imperceptible. “I’m not upset. You told me what he was.”

His reassurance gains him another, far sweeter kiss this time, before Lucifer steps back in obvious reluctance.

“Let's go plan the interrogation of a god.”

Chapter Text

“You’re benching me?” Dean says, leaning back at the table as his gaze flicks between Sam and Lucifer as if unsure which of them to blame. It didn’t help that they’d obviously discussed it in that bond of theirs before deciding to clue him in. “You can’t be serious.”

“As great a hunter as you are, Dean,” Lucifer says, and Dean’s eyes focus on him as the archangel wins the blame game, “You’re still just human, and as I’m an archangel with a twitchy trigger finger…” Lucifer shrugs his arms out to his side before he leans against the back of Sam’s chair again. He obviously feels the rest of his point is self-evident.

“I’ve been around Cas plenty of times when he’s used his powers,” Dean retorts, looking to the angel for back up, his mouth dropping open as Castiel looks back at him, pained. He points fiercely at the angel as he adds, “Not you too.”

“Dean-“

“No, this is a load of shit.”

“Dean, you know how both of us are when something happens to either one of us,” Sam says, cutting through Dean’s hurt. Glancing up to the overly still form of Lucifer above him before back at Dean, “How do you imagine Lucifer is feeling right now? I like you with your eyes, Dean.”

Dean takes a moment to drink in the statuesque stillness of Lucifer. It had developed slowly as they had talked through all the information Ramiel had gathered. The plans of the building were scattered on the table between them all as proof of how long they had been talking. Even when first released from the cage, the archangel had seemed strangely at ease and loose in human form. Now he almost looks made of stone. Dean suddenly has less desire to be around an archangel that’s losing control of himself; a warrior of God on the warpath is probably not good company.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Dean huffs, hardly mollified by the relief he sees flicker over both their faces. Benched, the thought rankles at him. He gets it, he really does. Dean is a fan of having his eyes too. But, after facing down so many cosmic-level threats, the thought of being sidelined because of the risk of friendly fire?

“Didn’t expect you to, Dean,” Sam sighs, and Dean realises that Sam isn’t happy about not taking him either. They always did their best work together, even when things got messy. It would seem unnatural to both of them to be apart. It gives Dean a little magnanimity back. Just a little.

“I’m going to go look for a hunt then,” Dean says, pulling himself up from the table. “And just.. yeah, don’t go getting yourselves killed with this, or there’s going to be one hell of a lecture when I get you back.”

If Dean plans to cook one of his more delicious recipes for dinner that always makes Sam bitchface at him for the number of calories in it? That’s his business.

…

Sam was making his way back to his room after brushing his teeth when he sees it. A new door next to his own. It’s slightly open, and as he focuses on it, he knows who he’ll find on the other side. With a shake of his head, he steps closer to push it further open. What he finds could not possibly have ever existed in the bunker until tonight.

A large room spreads out before him. Dark wood bookshelves line one wall, framed by long red curtains on either side. The same red tone spreads out across the floor with a plush rug to keep the cold of the bunker at bay. Two high-backed leather chairs, obviously stolen from the library, are before a crackling fireplace; Lucifer occupies the furthest one and is ostensibly reading a book. Sam suspects he’s waiting for Sam’s judgment. In one corner, a small grand piano sits alongside a violin, and they seem to be the most startling addition to the room in Sam’s eyes.

So, he almost misses the two low rising steps along the back wall that lead to an open sliding door and a richly appointed bedroom beyond. Red so obviously Lucifer’s favourite colour as the colour scheme continues even there. He’s hardly surprised that the bed is four-poster; it’s the sort of touch he’d expect from the archangel. There even appears to be a window to one side of the bed, giving a view out into a forest at night.

“Dean’s going to kill you for altering the bunker,” Sam says, gesturing to the space.

“He’ll cope,” Lucifer says, flashing Sam a grin as he closes his book to place it on the small table that now sits between the two chairs. Sam was certain it wasn’t there a second ago. “Besides, the library seemed too far from you this evening. I wasn’t going to invade your private space… again… so, I made a compromise.”

Sam feels the warmth of the smile he gives Lucifer for that run all the way through him. He doesn’t need it, but he values every moment that shows how different Lucifer is now. At least for him. He steps further into the room to browse the contents of the bookshelves. It’s even more eclectic than the bunker library, and some look ridiculously old.

“I pulled them from some of my hidden collections that were gathered on my behalf,” Lucifer’s voice soft from behind him, and he can feel the archangel’s gaze against his back, “I hoped you might enjoy them.”

“There are some books here I’ve only ever heard of,” Sam says, utterly entranced as he moves along the shelves. “You’re going to have to teach me how to use the grace for languages, because else I’m never going to be able to read them properly.”

“Of course, Sam,” Lucifer says, laughing with quiet good humour from behind him. Sam’s relieved he could ease some of the tension that had filled Lucifer this evening. Lucifer’s worry for Gabriel had been a never-ending thrum for hours now.

Closer to the shelves, he finally sees that behind those long curtains, doors are hidden on either side. Curious, he almost goes to open one before instead turning to Lucifer. “Where do they go?”

“One is a room for Gabriel,” Lucifer says, his casual tone belying the wave of hopeful nervousness that floods the bond for a moment. It fades quickly into a deeper pleasure as he adds, “The other, well, whatever we might need at the time.”

Sam doesn’t rise to the bait, even if he has to fight back the flush he feels along the back of his neck. Instead, he moves over to settle into the other unoccupied chair and reaches out his hand towards Lucifer, who takes it gratefully. The touch settled both of them for one quiet moment.

“Thank you for respecting my privacy,” Sam says after a while. Watching as his thumb rubs back and forth across Lucifer’s hand rather than looking up at Lucifer's face.

“Yes, well…” Lucifer trails off, and Sam appreciates what he doesn’t say. There’s a lot between them in the past, and Sam has no desire to have that conversation right now. He squeezes Lucifer’s hand in thanks and looks up to find the Archangel watching him with a serious gaze. Unable to hold it, he looks instead back at that bedroom.

It looks so much more comfortable than his own. Dean had begun nesting in the bunker and had gone all out with his own bed comfort. Sam had never been able to quite take that step and his bedroom was still rather utilitarian. The one Lucifer had made almost called to him, and he’s more than tempted.

“I made this space for us, Sam.” Lucifer’s words cut through Sam’s introspection. The archangel swiftly stands and Sam finds his lap filled with archangel as jean-clad knees land on either side of his legs. Warm hands capturing Sam’s face as he gently turns him to look up, “I want you here, you foolish man.”

Any rebuttal Sam could make is lost as Lucifer kisses him. A slow, tender claiming in sharp contrast to his welcome earlier. The moment is startlingly chaste as Lucifer’s wings curl about the chair, hiding Sam from the world in an act of sheer possessiveness. Even as the bond floods with just how much Lucifer cares for Sam, that leaves him not so much drowning in it but floating. Everything trying to show how safe he would be here as Lucifer’s lips stay soft against his own. Despite himself, Sam shudders as his arms wrap about the being in his lap, keeping him close in turn.

“I’ll stay,” Sam whispers as Lucifer pulls back only enough to let him breathe. His lips are almost touching Sam’s as he speaks. “I’ll stay.” This time it's Sam who closes the scant distance between them. Lucifer’s sound of happiness vibrates against his lips as the archangel settles against him.  

Not long after, Sam finds himself cocooned in the overly rich sheets of the bed as the sheer curtains hanging from it do enough to take away any sense of being watched, while still giving him a way to see about him. The quiet sound of Lucifer turning the pages of his book and the fireplace easing his way into sleep.

…

It is, of course, raining as the three of them arrive in a dark alcove across from the Ophidian Hotel. Lucifer’s wings come up to shelter Sam and Ramiel in a move that obviously startles the demon. Sam gives the demon a knowing look before looking towards the building, flicking through the aspects of his vision as he feels Lucifer doing the same next to him.

“You’re right, Ramiel,” Lucifer sighs, “There’s nothing angelic in there at all. They’ve warded as best they can for an angel, but not well enough.”

Sam nods at that; he can feel it too. The building wants to repel him, filling him with the need that he should walk anywhere else, but he can ignore it. It’s reassuring that what they had briefly tested in the bunker works in the real world. He and Lucifer are now a loophole around any angel-specific ward. The soul they now share means that while the wards are uncomfortable, they can choose to ignore them.

“Ready?” Lucifer asks, and at the twin nods he receives, he moves. He pulls them all through the wards, shrugging them off behind them as they land noiselessly in a corridor. The impressions of Narfi and Sleipnir are not too far away. Patting Sam on the shoulder, the archangel is on the move again, heading up towards the penthouse of the hotel where the other two gods are hiding.

Landing in the main room, he flares his wings out as his power slams into the building. Putting it on lockdown and ensuring no one is leaving by any method. Loki is entirely unprepared by his arrival, the god scrambling back in shock as Fenrir launches at the archangel. With a smirk, Lucifer doesn’t even bother to raise a hand to telegraph the movement as he launches the wolf god into the nearest wall. Leaving him there to struggle and choke against the stucco.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Lucifer tuts, the doors turning to flame as the invisible form of Loki is brought up short against them. “You didn’t think that would work on me?” He turns then towards the window behind him, “And that’s not going to help you either.” Forcing the real form of Loki back from the window he’d been inspecting. It would have done him no good; Lucifer’s power is crawling over each and every one. Shrouding the building so intensely that it’s almost in a pocket dimension.

“Let's just talk about this in a civilised manner,” Loki tries, giving the archangel a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yes, let's,” Lucifer agrees, “We just have to wait for a few people to arrive first.”

Loki frowns at that, so obviously not looking to do anything that Lucifer naturally side steps and brings a blade up and through the clone that tries to stab him from behind. It’s ridiculously predictable. He doesn’t even look away from Loki as he does so. The god looks far less relaxed after that.

“Why don’t you sit down,” Lucifer says, snapping his fingers and forcing Loki into the seat behind the desk. Lucifer himself sitting languidly on the edge of the other side. Completely ignoring Fenrir who continues to struggle uselessly against the wall.

…

Ramiel and Sam split up almost immediately. Ramiel pulling out a longsword with runic script down the blade as he goes. He’d casually informed them the night before he’d had it made to fend off Vikings from his home hundreds of years ago. Sam, for his part, had the colt, which Dean had been insistent he bring as Dean wasn’t allowed to be here himself.

Sam had kicked the door down and had the gun levelled at Sleipnir before the horse god had even been able to put down his book. The young-looking god stared at him with wide eyes that only grew wider as Lucifer’s power enveloped the building and Sam’s eyes glowed in sympathy with it.

“What is a hunter doing here?” Sleipnir asks, looking from Sam to the gun in growing nervousness. The gun had a reputation after all.

“Up, hands behind your back,” Sam says, gesturing at the god to turn around. To his relief, Sleipnir readily agrees, and Sam snaps rune-inscribed handcuffs onto the god before he finally fully relaxes. “With me, we’re going for a little walk.”

…

Lucifer lets the flames at the door subside as Ramiel and Sam drag their final guests inside to force them to their knees before him at the desk. Sam moves past him to Fenrir and cuffs him too before dragging him, still snarling, over to the others. Sam seemed as unimpressed by the green glow of power the cuffs swiftly cut off as he was. Lucifer locks them in place and makes them mute with his power before turning to smile at Loki as the full family is now within the archangel’s power.

“There, now we can talk,” Lucifer says, leaning a little closer to Loki, “I believe you know my brother, Gabriel.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Loki blusters, and perhaps to others he would be believable. There is a genuine note of real honesty to his tone. That silver tongue showing its edge with every wordlit. “I think there’s been some grave misunderstanding here.”

“A misunderstanding,” Lucifer hums, running a finger along the desk as he lets himself appear thoughtful for one long second. Looking back up at Loki as he calls back, “Sam.”

There’s a shot from behind Lucifer as Sam immediately fires the Colt. Sleipnir’s body lit up with in sickly yellow as the magic of the gun does its work and fries the god out of existence. The body falls to the ground with a thump a second later as Loki tries and fails to leave the chair. His impotent shout of horror loud in the room.

“Oh dear, two sons left,” Lucifer says, giving Loki a mocking wince, “That didn’t go well, did it? Let me ask again, I believe you know my brother, Gabriel?”

Loki doesn’t answer him for one long moment, staring wide-eyed at the corpse of his child before glaring up at Lucifer.

“You bastard!” Loki growls, straining more against the archangel’s hold that keeps him in the chair. Ever focused on the body of his dead son.

“Sam, if you would,” Lucifer asks, and the sound of the Colt’s hammer going back is loud in the room as Sam turns the Colt on Narfi.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Loki gasps, “yes, I knew Gabriel.”

“Much better,” Lucifer says, breaking into a smile at Loki that is entirely threatening. “I knew we could get along. Where is he?”

“Not here, obviously!” Loki says, voice filled with impotent rage that becomes panic as Lucifer goes to turn and speak to Sam, “We sold him!”

“You. Sold. Him,” Lucifer says, his voice going flat as Loki gains his full attention again, “Who to, when, and why.”

“Seven years ago,” Loki replies through gritted teeth. It’s really clear where Kali’s annoyance with him came; no wonder the goddess had been so willing to give them information. “To Asmodeus. All your brother had to do was stay away from you and your family. He couldn’t even do that, then expected us to hide him from you after he got Odin killed?”

Lucifer freezes in place at the information, as close to leaving his body as he has ever been. Eyes burning a deep red as he tries to process what he’s heard. Only one word keeps running through his mind. Asmodeus. Asmodeus. Asmo-fucking-deus. A loud crack resounds in the room as the wall behind Loki fractures along its length, and the building shudders beneath them.

“I’m sorry, you blamed Odin’s death on him?” Sam says hotly, moving from his place to stand next to Lucifer. Trusting in Ramiel to watch over the two godly hostages on the floor. Taking Lucifer’s hand in his and trying to soothe the archangel as best he can. He’s working on minutes with that he knows. “Gabriel tried to save him and everyone there. They’d have died if Gabriel hadn’t turned up, but he tried anyway because it was the end of the world and he considered you all his second family! He was trying to save people, you ungrateful bastard, and you sold him!”

“It was a simple agreement and he broke it,” Loki hisses back, and any restraint Sam was feeling in holding back any of Lucifer’s vengeance snaps there. His face falling into the blank state he rarely finds himself in, how fitting that the person causing it had the same face as the first. It doesn’t help that Lucifer’s mounting rage is roaring through him, his own disgust adding to the fire. In that moment, Gabriel is their brother, their family, and he requires vengeance.

“Do you want to know who actually killed Odin?” Sam says, slowly releasing Lucifer’s hand and stepping back to Ramiel’s side. His fingers are white around the colt he’s holding it so hard. Loki’s face as he looks to him is a mask of angry confusion.

“I did,” Lucifer’s voice is quiet. The archangel rising to his feet in one unnaturally graceful motion as Ramiel gives a sound of anticipation from Sam’s right. Loki’s attention snaps back to Lucifer in sudden horror as the archangel’s wings spread wide in shadowy relief. Every step the archangel takes around the desk and over to the restrained god is slow and methodical. Every movement is calculated.

The backhand he gives Loki is not. The god sent spinning from the chair onto the floor as the loud crack of his jaw shattering plays as a gruesome soundtrack to his fall. Lucifer kicks out at one of his legs and breaking bone that keeps the god crawling along the carpet in a futile effort to get away. Lucifer stoops to grab hold of him, fingers digging so tightly into his scalp that blood runs freely down Loki’s head as he brings the god struggling to his knees.

“I could kill you instantly,” Lucifer says, his tone almost conversational, “That’s how I killed Odin; he was impotent. He couldn’t do a thing. It was like swatting a fly, but you? You get to live.” Pulling the god close to him as he twists them to look at his staring sons, “I might even let one of your sons live. Who can say? You’ll live, and I’ll let the Archangel of Justice decide what happens to you.”

Loki makes a sound like he wishes to say something, but with his jaw turned to so much dust on one side, there’s nothing he can do to turn against this tide. The god’s eyes flicker, panicked from his children to Ramiel and Sam, but he finds no mercy there. The demon looks almost hungry to see Lucifer in action, and any care from Sam is long gone.

“Don’t you go looking at my Sam for help,” Lucifer hisses in his ear and fingers find one of Loki’s eyes and press in until there’s nothing left as Lucifer shifts them to hide the view, if not the sound, from Sam. The panicked sounds from Loki turned to shrieks of pain as the fingers burrowed further into his face, “You really are pathetic.”

“I think this face belongs to my brother now, you don’t get to keep it,” Lucifer continues, twisting his fingers further beneath too soft flesh as it begins to char and bubble. Barely noticing Loki’s hands as they twist and flail at him, trying to pull himself free from an immovable hold. The god's screams echo in the room as he struggles. Lucifer doesn’t stop until Loki’s face has become a melted, unrecognisable ruin of tortured flesh. One good eye left to stare out at the world.

Don’t lose yourself, Sam’s words are quiet, but they cut through Lucifer as he pulls his fingers out of the gore he had created. Pausing as he considers his next move as Sam adds, Give him to Crowley. We got what we came for.

Sam… Only between them does Lucifer let the pain show, that one world filled with all the agony running through his grace. His soul deep need to avenge his brother is overwhelming him.

Call Crowley, let him recreate mythology on your behalf. Sam offers, and Lucifer delights in the idea. It’s enough to make him stop. Reaching into his ownership of Hell and calling the King to his side with a firm request. Opening the warding on the hotel for him alone.

“Hello, darlings, I see I’m invited to the best parties,” Crowley says as he appears in the room to take in the tableau before him.

“I have another one for our collection,” Lucifer calls, twisting Loki around to look at Crowley with the fingers still buried in his scalp. “I also have some questions for you.”

“I’d be delighted on both counts,” Crowley says, openly admiring Lucifer’s work as he takes Loki in, “What did he do?”

“He and his family sold my brother to Asmodeus,” Lucifer says, and his fingers come fully free as he tosses the broken god in the direction of Crowley. Loki tries to move, which is surprising, but it’s not very effective.

“Really?” Crowley scoffs, obviously shocked, before he points at Loki, which sends him back to the floor, the King of Hell’s eyes glowing yellow as he does, “Down boy.”

“So, where’s Asmodeus, Crowley?” Lucifer asks, voice forcibly calm.

“He has a mansion complex under heavy warding near the Seven Devils Mountains in Payette National Forest,” Crowley replies, deciding direct is most definitely his best strategy today.

“That’s a little on the nose, isn’t it?” Sam asks, actually startled by it.

“That’s Asmodeus for you,” Lucifer says, stalking closer to Crowley as he wipes at his blood-covered hands with a summoned cloth, “Sam had a brilliant idea for our guest. I think it’s only fair we recreate a little history for him.” He glances back at Sam as he adds, “We only need one of the children alive for that, don’t you think?”

“Which one was bringing home innocent people for the family dinner table, Ramiel?” Sam asks, nodding between the two restrained gods on the floor. 

“Oh, that would be him,” Ramiel says and points to Narfi as he gives Sam a broad grin. 

The colt fires again as Loki whimpers on the floor, struggling again to rise, but he’s learnt all too well that he’s not the most powerful being in the room. The sickly yellow light of the colt’s magic lights up Narfi before his body joins Sleipnir’s on the floor.

“Make sure he can keep an eye on all his sons,” Lucifer says offhandedly to Crowley.

“It’ll be done just as you ask,” Crowley nods, snapping his fingers to bring the bodies closer to his feet as Ramiel manhandles Fenrir closer. Fenrir so obviously trying to speak and escape, but there’s no escaping the hold of an archangel. “Should I be expecting another guest soon?”

“That depends entirely on what we find,” Lucifer says, his voice cold. “Take them, Crowley.”

Crowley inclines his head a little at Lucifer before he disappears with his squirming cargo. The carpet burnt and bloodstained where the King of Hell had once stood from his departure.

Left alone with only Sam and Ramiel, Lucifer staggers back a few paces to rub still bloody hands across his face. Trying to hold himself together as his power makes the hotel shudder where it stands.

“He’s had my brother for years,” Lucifer gasps, his mind running too fast through all the possible horrific things that could have happened and could still be happening to his brother. He jerks back as Sam’s hands try to take his. “Don’t… Don’t want to get any of this on you.”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” Sam comments, and he reaches out again, pulling Lucifer’s hands to him. The archangel’s eyes meet his, wide and haunted. So much grief and guilt at war within the creature, and now with no easy target to take it out on, “You’re not facing this alone.”

“I don’t want to make you think of the past,” Lucifer whispers, stepping closer into Sam as he speaks.

“Going to do it to anyone that doesn’t deserve it?” Sam says, giving the archangel a pointed look.

“Of course not,” Lucifer scoffs, even as Sam actually manages to smile at him.

“Then come here and let's deliver some vengeance,” Sam says, and he closes the distance to press an open-mouthed kiss to Lucifer. The archangel pours into him as they kiss. Ramiel is front and centre to see the two finally unite once more. The archangel’s unoccupied body slumps down to be caught by suddenly stronger arms before it vanishes away. Ramiel actually staggers as they turn towards him, the power in the room growing tenfold as Sam’s glowing eyes lock onto him. He had heard, he had even seen how different they were when apart; it was nothing compared to actually seeing the union come to life.  Without needing to think about it, the demon drops to his knees.

“Ramiel, will you join me in this?” They ask, and he shudders under the power that licks beneath his skin.

“Is that even in question?” Ramiel says and receives a satisfied smile in reply.

“Come then, Ramiel.”

Ramiel follows his lords with baited breath, feeling the hotel crumble to dust as they leave. Nothing remained to show that this had been Loki’s small kingdom.

…

Ash and Ingrid were not what people would consider the usual sort of friends. They had annoyed each other on their first meeting, indeed, Ingrid had been left crying in the chaotic man’s wake that first day. But, the longer they sat working together on the greenery-covered veranda Lucifer had quickly added to the building, the more they found reasons to like each other. They both had a ridiculous eye for detail when it came to something they cared about. That they both cared about how this city was going to function probably helped there too. It probably also helped that Naomi and Charlie often played mediator. Kevin just seemed to watch them all with growing frustration before solving an issue with a sarcastic comment as if they were all idiots. It was a partnership that worked well in Ash’s opinion.

Sometimes Ash did wish he could join the older hunters who had taken to sitting on the beach, reminiscing and enjoying the ‘sunshine’ the place offered. No one had really gotten over the delight in having somewhere new to hang out and explore together yet. Every new place that was slowly created meant more of the Roadhouse crew disappeared for a time.  Indeed, Ash wished he could be doing anything but being where he was now as the laptop lit up with a stream of red messages while it screamed in complaint, and all the angels at the table winced.

“Oh fuck,” Kevin groaned, reading over the scrawled Enochian with a panicked eye, “Lucifer has found out what happened to Gabriel, and it’s really not good.” The prophet growing paler as he reads on, “Oh.. oh no. This is not going to end well.”

“I need everyone who can get here now!” Naomi calls out and into Angel Radio as well, already standing and heading to a clearer area of the veranda. A space that swiftly fills as terrified angels appear from over heaven and from Earth.

“Castiel’s gone straight to them to try and slow them down,” Inias says, arriving breathless as the last filter in. “He’s not got much hope he can stall them long, but he’s going to try to give us what he can.”

“Does everyone remember the training?” Naomi asks, after giving Inias a grateful nod, they all know it’s not much, but it’s something.

“I’ve never had to do it before,” A lone cupid says, their voice quivering from the back.

“We just need you to lend us your power, brother,” Naomi says, trying for a soothing tone and uncertain if she succeeds, “Let the older angels guide those of you that haven’t.”

“What’re you going to do?” Ash asks, not happy about interrupting, but he has to know. All the humans gathering need to know.

“An archangel is the wrath of heaven,” Naomi explains, “There have been times the Earth has received that wrath, and it is the job of lesser angels to stand as defence of the rest of creation so that the innocent were not punished. It wasn’t needed during the apocalypse, no one really saw the point…” Naomi looks away a moment before she adds, “What Sam and Lucifer have become? It’s the power of an archangel fuelled by a human soul, by Sam’s soul. There’s never been a power like it.”

“Are there enough of you?” Bobby asks, the older hunters having approached as the commotion had begun.

“I have no idea,” Naomi says, “But we have to try. Otherwise, they’ll rip that whole mountain range apart to get to Gabriel. What they'll do afterwards will probably be even worse.”

The humans are left in cold silence as the angels vanish from heaven. Naomi’s words left echoing in the space around them long after they were gone.

Chapter Text

It’s said that archangels are beings of impossible power that will always leave the world trembling in their wake. When Raphael had walked the Earth, the Eastern Seaboard had lost power quite dramatically. Yet, reality has worked against that fact; a lone church trembled when Lucifer rose and after sightings came with minimal disturbance to the world. Indeed, Gabriel lived on the Earth for millennia and left no sign of his passing. Perhaps then the measure of their disturbance is truly a measure of respect. The less disturbance, the greater the respect for the creation they stand in.

There was barely any thought of respect today.

The mansion was vast and continued back into the rock of one of the mountains. A deeply pretentious frontage that spreads out over the land, hiding a twisting maze of caverns beneath. Large plate glass windows overlooking a treelined lake and framed in broad wooden columns and stonework. Owned by anyone else, it might have been beautiful, watched on by Samael, it was just a target. Every casually wandering figure outside is just a future victim of their power, each so clearly a demon. Each so clearly just waiting to die. All they care about is that there’s no sense of their brother in any of these outer rooms. They’re going to have to go deeper.

They float in the sky just outside the notice of the wards. Even from this distance, the lake beneath them begins to hiss slightly as the water begins to boil. Both Ramiel and Castiel at their side unable to hide their nervousness as they glance down, but they don’t move out of the cloaking shadow of one of their wings. The urge to act burns through Samael, but they wait. Giving Castiel the time the angel had begged for on arrival. His logic had made sense, as much as Samael didn’t want to listen to logic.

They take the time to study the wards instead. It’s remarkable and old work, built up over time and meant to keep a whole host of beings at bay. The place is a fortress that even an Archangel would have difficulty breaching, but Samael is no ordinary Archangel. Samael is preparing to make a point.

I’m going to burn him alive, Lucifer growls within their union.

After we find Gabriel, Sam adds to that thought, and they both nod in agreement. Gabriel then revenge; they have their priorities in order.

“They have one more minute,” Samael snaps out. Unwilling to wait even that much more, but they know they must, they like this world. Later, there would be regrets if they scarred it too much. Naomi flickers into view, but they’re gone before she can even speak. They appear above the house in a flash of crackling, angry grace before they drop towards the wards and punch through them in one mighty blow. They have no care for caution. The power echoes out and levels the trees for a mile around the house, the waters of the lake sent into disarray as the mansion is demolished, a tidal wave sent seeking the opposite bank. The land shudders beneath them as the continuous Earthquake of their arrival sends the ruins skittering and the mountains around them visually shake. Let those below fear their coming.

Most of the guards died on impact; those that survived were quickly dispatched as Ramiel and Castiel joined them in the fight. The broken sigils of the wards flared in the air about them, useless before and doubly useless now. With a harsh wave of their hand, the rubble with the temerity to block their way deeper into the base is sent flying into the mess of fallen trees. Only to stop abruptly in mid-air as it hits a new wall of warding. Angels appeared on the other side to feed what power they could into them, staring on with haunted, wide eyes. Samael doesn’t care. Nothing fills their mind but Gabriel, and they storm into the caverns below.

What they find is a symphony of pain and suffering. A collection of waifs and strays kept on the edge of death, and some taken beyond it to ever wail out their grief in ward-lined cells. Their journey became a never-ending sea of people to be put beyond their misery. Too many long past the point of healing in this new hell of Asmodeus’ creation. The only crime any of them had ever committed to be here was to simply exist and be interesting. Species, temperament or anything in between didn’t matter, only what level of fun they could be. It was no wonder that this prince had snapped up an archangel that was suddenly on offer. It only fueled Samael’s rage as they descended.

They can barely see the guards as they search. Those demons so far beneath his notice as they fall to the blades of Samael’s followers. Ramiel and Castiel dispatch those too stupid to run in the opposite direction from such power. None here is a match for a prince of hell and a Seraph.

The taste of Gabriel’s power begins to be taste heavy on their tongue. It’s strangely dispersed in the place and makes it hard to pinpoint where their brother might actually be. That there’s any trace at all gives them hope enough to continue searching that maze-like space. Even if all it gives them is the knowledge that he must be here. Pushing past the endless litany of horrors because at least they can bring an end to every one they find. Tearing down Asmodeus’ kingdom piece by piece around the hiding prince.

It’s a vain search, though, as they find a cell, empty now, but so obviously had been Gabriel’s. The Enochian prayer for help carved minutely in one corner tells all the story they need to know about that, down to the very depths of their grace. It gives them one long moment of grief in the centre of their rage. The hand that scribed it into rock had been shaking as it had done so, the dust within it showing its years old. It’s such a simple thing, but it underlines the pain their brother has undergone even beyond the echoes of it in the room around them. Even beyond the blood that stains the floor.

“Oh, Lucifer!” Asmodeus’ voice echoes through the caverns, “I’m sure now you’ve realised I’m holding all the cards. I was so hoping we could talk about things in a more congenial fashion.”

It takes all of their control not to fry the electronics throughout the place at the tone. So supercilious, so self-involved. They long to teach the owner of that voice how wrong they are. Already turning towards the door to march towards what has to be the seat of Asmodeus’ power here. They’d avoided it initially because Gabriel came first, a mistake they weren’t about to make again. Besides, it was clear where their brother is now.

“I have your brother right here,” Asmodeus’ voice comes again. “Why don’t you join me, and we can discuss this properly. What can I say, I’m feeling magnanimous.”

“He thinks-“ Ramiel begins, but they silence him with a fierce move of one hand. They’ve realised it too, and it’s a card they have no desire to show quite yet. They know they may be walking into a trap, but they fully intend to turn it back on the traitorous demon. All that matters is Gabriel.

Asmodeus’ throne room is as pathetic as the man himself. An overly gaudy cavern that tried to emphasise the demon was important, and it stank of someone trying too hard. The white suit on the demon makes him look more ridiculous than anything. Not so much a man of power but a child trying to wear their father’s clothes. The demon sat in all his pride on a throne that’s far too big for him, one finger hooked under a collar wrapped around a vacant-eyed Gabriel’s throat.

It's hard to tear their gaze away from the ruin that was their brother. The sewn lips are just the beginning of the tragedy of injuries they can quickly catalogue on his body. Yet the horror of that nothing compared to what had become of his grace. The strange taste of it in the air makes far too much sense as the fractured pieces come into sharp relief in their vision. The bright light of the messenger pulled away and twisted into a broken form. Cannibalised and fed on by the demon sat reclined on his throne.

It is far worse than anything they had imagined. Their rage crackles in their ears so loudly they can’t hear a word Asmodeus is speaking. Frozen in place, not by the display before them, not by concern as Asmodeus so obviously believes, but because they’re almost too enraged to act without killing all within that room. They haven’t come so far that they'll take out their brother in a fit of pique. They’d never forgive themselves. So they force themselves to listen. Have to understand before they act. Have to find a better way.

“-So, you see. This was all for you,” Asmodeus is saying, “He had the temerity to run from you after you had cast judgment on him. So, of course, I acted in your absence. I am sure he has learnt the error of his ways.”

The words are hardly a surprise, even as they add to the chaos they feel. Asmodeus was always able to twist his words and beliefs to match any narrative. It was why Lucifer had always had to be so much more forceful with the pathetic cretin. He was a true snake. The urge to rend him from existence is a great one, but with him so close to Gabriel? They have to be careful.

“You did this, in my name?” They ask, spitting out the singular that burns them so viciously that it makes Asmodeus flinch at their tone. Good. “ Well, I’m sure that’s what you try to make yourself believe.”

“Believe? I know it,” Asmodeus retorts, pulling Gabriel up closer to him. There’s barely even a change in the expression on Gabriel’s face. It’s like he’s not even there. They doubt Gabriel even is aware of anything going on in the room. “Before he learnt his place, he laughed in my face about what the Winchesters had achieved in returning you to the cage. That’s when he lost speaking privileges, of course. I see I was right there too, you've got the Winchester in the end. No matter how much the humans tried to defy you.”

He really can’t see us, Sam says, and despite everything, all they feel is jubilation. All that power and he’s blind.

“My brother never did know when to stay quiet for his own protection,” They manage to say, taking a casual step forward as they pretend to be inspecting Asmodeus’ work. They have a sudden plan, and they need the distance as close as they can make it. It’s going to be a dangerous and swift dance.

“That’s quite far enough for now, don’t you think?” Asmodeus says, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t trust you. I’ve lost far too many men today.”

“You kept a secret from me, Asmodeus. You know my thoughts on that,” They scoff, “I had a point to make.”

“And now I have no house,” Asmodeus retorts, “Forgive me if I feel that and the loss of my people a tad extreme.”

“You’ve got brave on my brother’s grace,” Samael says, each word pains them, but it’s part of their cover as they ease themselves closer. They feel Castiel and Ramiel shifting at their back, silent shadows keeping up with them. “Where was that before? It improves you. But you can’t believe I’d have let any show of rebellion go unpunished.”

Are you ready, Sam? Lucifer asks, despite them both knowing how ready they both are. There’s no question as to what they have to do.

“He didn’t seem to want it, and I have so many better uses for it,” Asmodeus says with a smirk. Entirely oblivious to the true danger he is in as he yanks at that collar again. Moving Gabriel like he's no more than a puppet. Using Gabriel almost like a shield, as if that would protect him, as if that would be enough. As if words were going to save him. It’s the same self-indulgent confidence that had once had him trying to release the Shedim. It’s what snaps Samael out of their caution.

They dive forward, propelling themselves onward with their wings.  Splitting apart and calling Lucifer's body to them as they go. Even as fast as they’re moving, Asmodeus is already on the move. The demon brings a blade up to Gabriel, but he hesitates, even if only for a fraction of a second, as Samael becomes Lucifer and Sam.

Sam uses the momentum they had built to latch onto Gabriel and roll them across the floor. Landing poised above the still form as he levels the colt up at the fight before him. The throne crashes to the floor as Lucifer launches into Asmodeus. Taking the blade to his side, even as he’d broken Asmodeus’s other hand away from the collar to aid with Sam’s escape. Every strike from the demon below him is strong enough to draw blood, which he spits in Asmodeus’ face. The pain of Asmodeus's stolen grace in every blow just encourages him onwards. Fighting to keep the juiced-up demon on the floor until Ramiel and Castiel come to his aid. Between them, they force him down and keep him down.

“But I was serving you!” Asmodeus shouts, still struggling against them. The rock of the floor cracking and shaking beneath the demon from the strength that was needed to keep him down and the force he was using to try to rise.

“You were serving yourself,” Lucifer growls, bringing his face closer, “You have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Lucifer pulls Asmodeus’ own blade out of his lacerated side and returns it to the demon through his neck, draining out that grace-infused blood in a sudden flood across the floor. All strength in the prince quickly pours out around him as Lucifer continues to stab into his now silently shrieking form. Watching the blade do more and more damage as the power of the grace is no longer his to draw upon. The vicious delight of it fuels him on until Asmodeus is a heavy-breathing husk beneath his crouched form.

Lucifer pauses, then, looking over from that bloody mass to Sam and his brother. The colt returned to Sam’s belt as he continued to guard Gabriel. Sam’s eyes find his filled with so much understanding it almost breaks the archangel. Here, covered in blood and vengeance, all Sam does is smile at him.  

I need to make a point, Sam, Lucifer whispers into the bond, To all of them. This can never happen again. I won’t let it.

I know. I’ll keep him safe in the safest place of all. Sam answers back easily. His heart hurt seeing Lucifer at work; it could so easily have been an echo of their fraught past, but he doesn’t see it that way. He knows Lucifer so much more now.

“Ramiel, stay with me,” Lucifer says, still poised over Asmodeus as the floor drops out beneath them. A screaming void that Lucifer lets them fall into with dizzying speed. Ramiel followed ever loyally at his side.

The silence rings heavy once Lucifer and his prince are gone. Prepared for it this time, the pain Sam feels is only momentary as the distance between him and the archangel grows by the second. Even so, it takes a few breaths to steady himself as Gabriel stares blankly past him. It feels like the universe is broken to see the usually so animated being so still.

“What do you need, Sam?” Castiel asks, coming closer to crouch at his side.

“I need you to take us to the Court of Heaven,” Sam says, forcing back a nervous swallow at the extra distance this will create, “We need Gabriel to be safe.”

Sam holds tight to Gabriel as Castiel reaches out for them both.

…

Crowley had been prepared to be summoned. Only the closest of his demonic brethren were around him in readiness for the extra tumult of the day. What he hadn’t expected was for Hell to fracture open and the anger of an archangel to come screaming into his court, carrying the gasping body of a traitorous prince only to slam it to the floor. Even without the wings spread wide from his back, the archangel is a sight, covered in the dark demonic blood of Asmodeus. It’s more than Crowley’s life is worth, and he thinks his life very worthy, to ever again mention the brief flash of pain in Lucifer’s eyes that mutates into ever-increasing rage as those red eyes stare down at Asmodeus.

The Archangel rises, and Ramiel takes his place. The loyal prince of hell, using his booted foot pressed tight to a ravaged neck, kept Asmodeus prone on the ground. The usually laid back prince straight backed and severe, every inch the general of Lucifer’s past creation.

“Ah, Lucifer. How good of you to grace the court,” Crowley says, keeping his tone so easy as he rises to greet the archangel. Ignoring how the other demons in the room cower back until the walls stop their retreat. “What do you wish of the King of Hell?”

…

Sam had hoped that returning to heaven so unexpectedly might have spurred some visible reaction from the archangel. That there was nothing was more of a blow than the distance between Lucifer and him now felt like within his chest. So, he forces his focus onto dealing with the immediate, hoping that the rest would follow. Lifting the too-light archangel up into his arms to bring him further into the court, kicking his shoes off as he goes. Like Lucifer, there is a respect for this place that runs deeper in him than the others.

With Castiel’s aid, he draws Gabriel down to sit beside the crystal coloured pond under the dappled shade of a gently waving willow tree. The quietest and calmest place in the serene heart of heaven. The archangel doesn’t seem to register any of it as he allows himself to be moved as easily as a doll.  

Heaven provides Sam with scissors at his wish that he has them. Sam whispering out his gratefulness to the realm for them as he cuts away at the awful stitches that kept that so smart mouth closed. Soothing the motionless Gabriel with a gentle touch to his cheek, even if the archangel shows no outward sign of even being aware that he is here. The sluggishly bleeding holes left in their wake a terrible underlining of the torment the angel must have suffered.

“How are we going to help him, Sam?” Castiel asks from where he supports the broken form.

“How ever we can, Cas,” Sam sighs, using the scissors to help remove the rags that sagged on the angel’s body. Baring him as respectfully as he can before stepping away only long enough to force off his own jeans and shirts. Taking up the burden of the archangel into his arms again, holding him close to his chest as he steps into the warming waters of the pond. The water tingles with the grace of heaven as he heads deeper; the realm is so clearly excited to have the archangel back here. Slowly sinking to his knees as he supports Gabriel to float a little in the water. It’s with great care that Sam begins to clean the evidence of his captivity off the archangel. The dirt was whisked away by the slow current and destroyed as it fell over the edge of the court. Every move is as tender as he can make it as he reveals a litany of scars. Sam can only imagine how much had happened before Gabriel’s grace failed more and more in rebuilding itself.  

Castiel acts as their guard as he works. The angel keeping the litany of curious and hopeful other angels from coming closer than the entrance where they gathered. Sending them away and shielding Sam’s work from them all. Sam pays them no mind, trusting in his friend as he gives Gabriel all his attention.

Sam wonders if the occasional spark he sees come to the eyes beneath him is anything but his own hopeful imagination, as the archangel never seems to move. The threads of grace within the water grow about them as he works. Heaven reaching ever more insistently out to its most wayward archangel in gleaming threads of light. Heaven, too, is looking for a reaction that does not come. It twists his gut with further anxiety as he feels the almost plaintive nature of heaven’s touch. Desperately praying that it is simply because the archangel’s own grace is so low and not that the energetic being was lost forever.

Long after the angel is cleaned, he stays there in the water holding him. Hoping that the heart of heaven was doing something even if he had no way to tell.  Quietly murmuring reassurances to Gabriel that he is safe now and to take all the time he needs. 

Some of his anxiety is eased as Lucifer arrives. The other archangel looks unnaturally pristine after the violent events of the day, and Sam is grateful for that too; he didn’t want any further reminders about Asmodeus brought here. The archangel moves to join Sam in the waters as quickly as he can strip off his clothes. Aiding Sam in supporting his brother as he leans closer to give Sam a grateful kiss. Pouring all his thanks into the bond in that one simple act.

“Thank you, Sam,” Lucifer sighs, one hand caressing Sam’s cheek as he settles back into the water. The touch filled with everything the bond is ringing with between them.

“What the fuck.”

…

The forest world seems lesser today. Marking yet another day where the stream seems more sluggish and the trees less real around him. It makes Gabriel cling tighter to his sanctuary, trying to find some grounding in his reality. Clawing into the ground to stay here and not return to the painful world outside. It’s one of those days that shows this world is a ticking clock that will not last him for much longer, so every second here is to be clung to for the little peace it can give him.

Flashes of the outside still come to him, and they only make him more confused and panicked. Faces he recognises but surely couldn’t be out there keep appearing. The odd word floating through that he tries to understand, but fears focusing on. Fearing that if he gave them too much attention, he would lose all he held onto here.

For one glorious moment, he gets the full image of Sam Winchester crouched protectively over him, gun wielded at a distant assailant, before it fades into nothing again. It’s a ray of hope that cannot be true, but it’s a vicious thing worming away beneath his chest. He curls up tighter against the bank of the stream, almost falling forward to bury his face in the cooling waters of the stream. Fearing for his sanity even as his world seems to rock about him.

It's the first disturbance to reach this far, and he panics. Watching the far line of trees for any disintegration. Waiting for the land to fall away beneath him, but it never comes. Instead, it’s as if the trees are lit up with sudden twinkling lights as dozens of fireflies flit around the borders of his world. Twisting in glorious golden patterns and dancing in sheets of light that brings a tentative smile unbidden to his face.

The dance seems to pass for hours, and it soothes him in a way nothing in this hidden world had ever managed. He simply basks in it. Enjoying this long moment of peace after so many years of simply trying to survive and maintain anything that would keep him Gabriel. He almost lets it lull him into the semi-stupor that lets the days pass here, but he is denied.

His world is invaded by sudden twittering, a golden-winged songbird flying over his head to dive at him in growing impatience. With annoyance, he swats at it, wanting nothing more than to be left alone next to his stream. A stream that feels louder with every insistent chirrup of the bird above his head. Despite himself, he looks. The slow current morphing into a healthier torrent with every passing second. The almost stagnant water finally running to a healthier, burbling flow as it renews before his eyes. The shock of it forces him upright to sit at the side of that water. It’s astounding.

It should be impossible.

Something fundamental has changed. That same cruel hope twists within him once more, and he glares at the bird as it lands on his knee with a self-satisfied chirp of a job well done. A bird whose presence feels so familiar. That feels like home.

Gabriel’s fingers shake as he raises a hand towards the bird, slowly smoothing down the golden plumage as the bird rubs back against his touch. The flow of sudden power is ancient, bringing with it a wordless welcome from a place he just could not be in. A realm he surely had no way of reaching under what was left of his own power. As if sensing his disbelief, the bird becomes more agitated once again, hopping around his knee and pecking at his fingers in fierce strikes. One hits harder than the other, and the shock of it breaks his concentration on the world around him for just a moment.

It was enough.

The world shatters around him like glass, and he’s forced back into reality. Stiffening as he expects immediate pain to land on him any second. Not even daring to gasp as he remembers well the state of his lips from before. Yet there was nothing, only the sound of water and the smell of so much greenery. So many varieties of trees and plants. So much life. It all cries out to him to be known.

It’s only then that he realises he’s being held. Supported in water that is teeming with grace that laps upon his injuries. Every touch soothing the aches and pains he had thought would simply mark his normal existence from now on. Evidently, he had been quite wrong.

As the shadow of another body moves across him, he dares open his eyes. What he sees makes Gabriel feel like he has gone quite mad. Surely this is not reality but some greater dementation brought on by Asmodeus’ attentions. There is no conceivable universe where Lucifer would be kissing Sam Winchester so tenderly in the very heart of heaven itself.

“What the fuck,” Gabriel says, voice scratchy and quiet from lack of use. He may as well have shouted. The two men above him stare down at him with such joy that it only adds to his confusion. Everything feels so unreal.

“Gabriel, oh, thank father,” Lucifer says, and Gabriel feels his whole world lurch beneath him once again. None of this can be real, surely. Insanity has to have found him. “Hello, brother.”

“You’re safe now, Gabriel,” Sam Winchester adds, those strong arms tightening about him, and Gabriel feels lightheaded.

“What. How-“ Gabriel tries, but his breathing comes too fast. Caught in his panic and confusion, his eyes widen as he writhes in Sam’s hold. Struggling for freedom as he looks for any stability against this great impossibility. He can’t have been rescued. He can't be here. None of this can be true. His breath comes in quicker and quicker bursts as his vision blurs. No amount of oxygen seems enough for his weakened, terrified body. Gabriel tries in vain to fight off Lucifer’s hold as a hand lands too tenderly on his cheek. “Don’t, please!” He tries to shout, but there’s no air to speak, and with a gentle but firm wash of grace, darkness descends over his mind. Gabriel passes out.

Chapter Text

The room had been prepared hastily, but it was difficult to tell just from a casual glance. A richly appointed bedroom suite filled the space, and long, white curtains framed the windows. The bed was wide and comfortable with cream sheets that looked soft even to the eye. Only the pieces of medical equipment around added any incongruity to the space. It wasn’t the usual place angels were healed in heaven, but Lucifer had insisted.

Lucifer placed Gabriel, now clad in the softest pyjamas he could conjure, into the bed with a gentle touch. Smoothing the sheets over him to keep him covered partway up his chest. The unnatural stillness he sees at least feels more healthy now, the warm glow beneath healed skin the only sign of Heaven’s grace moving within Gabriel to scaffold the torn shreds of his brother back together.

“I must again protest,” Marfiel says, standing a little forward from his twin Urfeil. That they had twin vessels of equally short black hair and startlingly bright blue eyes only underlined the point of their similarities. “The best healing can only be done outside of his vessel.”

“Gabriel has been within this body,” Lucifer says with stress, “For centuries. I am not having him removed now. He has been through enough without doing that to him as well. For all we know, he views the body as much a part of himself as who he is within.”

“It is not done!” Urfiel gasps, only to fall silent as Lucifer turns a glare on him. He does manage to wrangle together some courage to add, “Any processes we have that would work, we have had to alter to work here. We don’t know how effective they’ll be.”

“I won’t have you removing him,” Lucifer says, and he wonders whether he should make it an official mandate of heaven. He didn’t want to, but Gabriel deserved the protection. Thankfully, the twins seem to share a silent conversation that ends with a considered nod from them both.

“We’ll do what we can,” Marfiel says at last, “Just be aware the results may not be as quick as you hoped.”

“I’d prefer slow and less trauma than quick and have only added in breaking my brother,” Lucifer sighs, turning to look down at the sleeping form and resting a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder before he straightens. He moves towards the door, then changes his mind and shifts back to place a smooth stone on the bedside table. It was a promise kept. “Take care of him, that’s all I ask.”

“He’s our brother returned to us,” Urfiel says, already moving to set up a drip shiny with grace, and things associated with healing, Lucifer cannot quite identify.

“Of course we will,” Marfiel adds. “It’s as you said, family right?”

Lucifer gives them a nod before stepping out onto the Veranda and the sudden burst of life and activity it brings. The design committee, minus Naomi, was back to its usual argumentative self in the centre by the steps down to the beach. It seems entirely friendly, though, so Lucifer has no desire to interrupt them. Slipping by them with the barest acknowledgement and walking across the sand with bare feet to the water’s edge. His hands slip into his pockets as he stares out at the horizon.

“So, when can we expect the pranks to begin?” Bobby asks, breaking away from where he’d been sitting drinking with Rufus to stand at the Archangel’s side.

“Probably not for some time yet,” Lucifer says, giving the man a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“He’ll be back to his usual self in no time, I’m sure,” Bobby reassures him, but it’s the hand that lands on his shoulder that comforts Lucifer the most. How odd it was to have gained such an extended family. He rather likes it.

Lucifer ensures he’s quiet as he returns to Sam. The man asleep still beneath the willow in the court, he’d been unwilling to go further than that, having no desire to abandon Lucifer in the care of his brother. He had tried to stay awake alongside him, but as the hours had passed, the waters had been soothing to more than just Gabriel. The grass and moss beneath the tree seemed to be comfortable enough for the human, though, and Lucifer shifts him enough to pull Sam’s head into his lap as he reclines back against the tree and rearranges the blanket around Sam’s sleeping body. His fingers smooth through Sam’s hair as he lets him sleep on. It's a relief to be back at Sam's side, his mind quieting a little with the man back in his arms. 

Lucifer’s gaze focuses on the point where Sam’s fingers are still deep into that water, the faint glow of heaven orbiting each fingertip in loops of golden light. How heaven reacts to Sam continues to surprise him. The union has come with no rulebook to help guide him, but heaven had never reacted to Nephilim the same way, and certainly no human soul had ever gained such a welcome. It felt like his father was up to something more with all of this. A thought that would be easy to fear, but he is learning to trust in his father again by slow degrees. He only hopes that is not in error.

Besides, it was easier to think about the present and worry about the future than the past. A past with Sam that was filled with so much guilt and pain. Finding Gabriel had only emphasised to Lucifer the weight of his mistake. That Sam had found room in his heart for him was a level of forgiveness and understanding he found hard to believe. Even more so with the viciousness Lucifer was capable of as well. It was part of being an archangel, and Sam had watched on and hadn’t turned aside.

“Though it take a thousand years, I will balance the books between us,” Lucifer whispers, and even as he speaks, he wonders if that would even be enough.

“Will you stop it,” Sam grumbles, turning into Lucifer as he talks, pressing his head into his side. Adding with a mumble, “No existential crises while the human is sleeping.”

“Sorry, Sam,” Lucifer says, voice quiet even as he laughs softly. Returning to simply running his fingers through Sam’s hair. Showing that tender side that was only one ever for Gabriel and now included Sam. Those most precious to him.

…

When they returned to the bunker, Sam had expected Dean to be in some kind of mood for missing out on so much. He had expected stress baking or some drinking to have happened. Instead, his brother seemed rather smug. While he was cooking, he greeted Sam with a smile as though he was the one with secrets and not Sam. It was a level of jubilance rarely seen in his brother.

“So, one archangel successfully rescued?” Dean asks, shoving a beer along the counter to his brother. All easy motions and that continued, pleased smile. It was freaking Sam out a little.

“Yes, and I get the impression we didn’t destroy a mountain range to do it,” Sam says. Naomi had only just returned with the other angels before they left. They all looked tired, and Naomi actually looked as if she was about to fall asleep as she’d sunk into a chair. She had confirmed that the mountains were still up, the trees were righted and the lake hadn't boiled away. Which was nice.

“Oh, good,” Dean deadpans before turning back to his cooking, miming destroy a mountain range with a shake of his head. “So. I had a productive time, too.”

“Yes, I do get the impression you want to tell me something,” Sam says, leaning against the counter to drink some of his beer. Dean pauses in his cooking then and turns to him with the biggest grin Sam had seen on his face in a long while, filled with happy expectancy.

“I killed Hitler.”

“You what?” Sam asks, for the life of him, thinking he must have misheard his brother. “Hitler?”

“Yes, I killed Hitler,” Dean says, actually sounding even more smug. “This group of wackos were trying to bring him back horcrux style. Dude kept going on about twitter until I put a bullet in him.”

“Hitler.”

“That’s what I said, Sammy. I killed Hitler,” Dean says, shifting back to his cooking with a not undue level of self-satisfied pride., “You’re welcome.”

“So how many people have you told so far?” Sam asks, already making a bet with himself about how many years his brother is going to be milking this for. Realistically? It’s probably going to be forever. Or at least until the next bigger bad comes along. There always is another one.

“Oh, I’m waiting until the funeral."

“The funeral?”

“A hunter has died, Asa Fox. Jody called us; we’ve been invited. A number of hunters are going. I said we would,” Dean says, “You know it was our mom, apparently, that got him into hunting, saved him for a werewolf according to Jody.”

“She did, huh? She must have made quite an impression,” Sam says. Pleased that Dean has been able to mention their mother without pausing briefly. Dean had been hit the hardest by her leaving, Sam knew. Sam himself was upset, sure, but she had always been more of an idea, and Lucifer had so much of his focus these days. There were too many balls in the air to really focus on one.

“Seems like. So, thought we could head out in the morning. Take the angels with us if they feel like it. With the Dicks of Letters about, I’d rather have some unexpected backup on hand if it goes south. Can’t see them not being interested in so many hunters gathering,” Dean says, pulling the casserole from the oven and beginning to serve up.

“I think I’d rather call them in should we need them,” Sam says after a moment of horrified introspection, “He’ll want to be watching over Gabriel when he can anyway and Castiel will complain about the car now he has his wings.”

"Yeah," Dean laughs, "He would."

…

The front of the house was already filled with vehicles when they arrived. The only one they recognise is the vehicle Dean had gifted to their mother on her exit from the bunker. The place filled to the brim with raucous hunters already well into celebrating Asa's life. It was quick, if awkward, enough to pass on their respects to Asa’s mothe,r and it was with some relief that they moved into the main room. It was hard to know what to say beyond the generic when it wasn't a hunter they knew personally.

“Sam, Dean! So glad you could make it!” Jody says, already moving in to envelop the boys in a hug as their mother moves in to do the same.

“I killed Hitler,” Dean says in place of any greeting, getting puzzled looks from both women and slow, identical thank yous from each of them. He doesn’t seem bothered by the stilted reply, just pleased to share his news again. Truly proud of his achievement.

“I’m glad to see you’re both looking well,” Mary says, turning the conversation away, “I’ve been hearing a lot of strange reports of things that have been happening. I bet you’ve both been in the middle of it.”

“We’re not always in the centre of the trouble,” Dean says, trying to deny things, even as Sam says,

“Probably.”

Time away with Jody seems to have infected her with the same knowing looks, as they both have the same expression of amusement at the brothers. Sam is relieved that even at a funeral, Mary seems more at ease with herself than before. He can only feel pleased for his mother. He hopes she manages to find her way.

“Right, so causing trouble again,” Jody says, “Sounds like you.”

There is a growing wave of quiet around them as people begin to realise who they are. Their reputation, of course, has definitely preceded them.

“You’re the Winchesters?” One of the hunters called, “The Winchesters?”

“Unless there are any others out there, yes,” Dean says, “Got a problem with that?”

“No,” The man says, shaking his head, “We all got your warning though. I admit, I didn’t believe it till a man came talking about these Letters people. Said a lot of fancy things, but wanted to still kill the witch I found, who was only selling health cures. She hadn’t hurt a person a day in her life, and he still wanted her dead. She was helping kids.”

“Never mind that, I want to hear about Lucifer,” Another hunter calls. The room fills more as other hunters filter in from other rooms. The Winchesters becoming more and more the centre of attention. Despite himself, Sam swallows abruptly. This is far from what any of them had expected.

“What about Lucifer?”

“We all heard something about you boys fighting him, but now he’s back and working with you? So many stories about you two always seem so crazy.”

“Well, that part is actually true. He’s helping deal with the Men of Letters.” Sam says, wondering how he’s supposed to explain about Satan to a room filled with hunters. Yes, he wanted to end the world once, but he's actually nice-ish now, so don't worry about it? That would hardly go down well.

The hunters are asking about you. Sam says, hurriedly turning to Lucifer.

Really? Well, this should be entertaining. You know I won’t mind what you tell them, Sam. Lucifer’s words come easily, even if the Archangel seems a little distracted.

“He’s helping?” More than a few hunters were voicing their scepticism about such things. No one had made a twitch to any of their weapons yet. Sam had to think it was going well enough.

“There was a curse on him, had been for thousands of years. With God’s help, it's gone now, and Lucifer is trying to fix what he can,” Sam says, trying to paraphrase what’s been happening without revealing the actual truth. Needing enough realism to convince fellow hunters, everyone is just too good at parsing out lies.

“A curse?” "God's help?" "What could hurt an archangel?" Voices come from about the room, and to Sam’s surprise, it’s Dean who jumps in.

“I’ve had the same thing,” Dean says, tone firm and unusually serious, “We found a way to get rid of it, but yeah. I’d believe Sam. The Lucifer you know is not who he actually is. What the curse does to you? No one wants to experience, believe me. Just be glad no one can get it anymore.”

There’s silence in the room at that. Not everyone seems to believe it, certainly not in its entirety. Sam can't really blame them. That becomes the least of his concerns as the demon walks into the room. He can’t see beyond that shadowy form in the woman and the sheer depth of power they exude. They're all in danger.

“Dean,” Sam says, voice quiet as he gives a slight nod in her direction.

“I see her,” Dean murmurs. “Do it.”

Lucifer, we have a demon here. Too powerful and too many people around. Sam calls, and he feels Lucifer’s presence at his back even as he calls out across the bond. The room suddenly bristled with weapons at the archangel's swift appearance. Shouts of surprise loud in the room.

“Hi Sam. Did you know there’s an extra dead body in the house?” Lucifer says. His fingers snapping together loud in the room as he traps the woman into place as her eyes flare red. The whole room started back as the hunters were suddenly torn between pointing a gun at Lucifer and the revealed demon. There’s a sudden bang of a gun going off, and Lucifer takes a step back, looking down at the hole in his shirt with a laugh. His grace immediately repairs it as he gives a soft tut. “At least you didn’t hit my jacket.”

“Well, this is going well.” Dean deadpans to Sam, who can only give him a shrug.

“No, this isn’t fair!” The demon screams, fighting against the archangel’s hold on her. “He was mine. I have a right to be here! Lucifer, please! It was my kill, and he was taken from me!”

“I swear I said hunters were off limits,” Lucifer says, voice going flat as he approaches the demon, “You’re not meant to be up here. I was very clear to the King of Hell. No demons up here, and especially no demons around hunters and the Winchesters. It’s key to a long, happy, demonic life.”

“I have a right to be here. He was my target, and he was taken from me.”

“I was clear." Lucifer asks, turning to look at Sam to add and receiving a nod in return, "I was clear, wasn’t I, Sam? No demons.” 

“He was mine!”

“You have a big mouth, Jael,” Lucifer shrugs, “But that’s easily solved.”

“Don’t hurt my sister,” Max says, stepping closer, hands rising in entreaty to the archangel, “Please.”

“Why ever would I do that? You might want to catch her, though,” Lucifer says, even as he reaches out towards Alicia and pulls Jael out of her with his grace. The black, swarming form of the demon twists in the air before him. He collapses his hand into a fist, and Jael dissipates into nothing. Alicia fell like a ragdoll into her brother's arms with a gasp. “She’ll be alright. You know, you all really should invest in the same tattoos the Winchesters have. You’re all just being sloppy else.” The archangel turns to survey the room critically as he talks.

“You’re Lucifer?” Bucky Sims asks, looking just as confused and disbelieving as the rest of the room.

“That’s me,” Lucifer says, giving them that big happy smile of his that is always just this side of creepy. Taking advantage of the silence and bewilderment in the room to return to Sam and lean on his shoulder. He can feel Sam frowning at him as the hunter crosses his arms, the bond filling with Sam’s sudden annoyance. He stays where he is. The Archangel needs the grounding; too many humans in one place wears his patience thin.

“But you killed a demon.”

“Yes, I did,” Lucifer says, tapping at his lip a little with one finger before he looks aside at Sam and Dean. “They seem a little slow on the uptake.”

“As I was saying before, Lucifer was cursed. It’s been cured and he’s not who you think anymore,” Sam says, trying to put some calm on the whole situation. As much as he adored Lucifer, the way the archangel couldn’t resist ever stirring the pot was more than a little grating. He could only imagine what life was going to become once Gabriel recovered.

“You could have fooled me,” Someone calls as another hunter says. “I thought angels were meant to be nice.”

The sudden snorts in the room showed how green behind the ears the one who’d spoken was.

“Angels are warriors of god, and they’re not often friendly,” A new voice adds to the conversation. “There were a lot around recently. I kept hearing stories, most of which weren’t pleasant. Then it all went quiet.”

“I made the kids go home,” Lucifer says, “You’re welcome.”

“I never thought becoming a hunter would make the world seem so mad.”

The tension in the room had slowly eased as people had realised they weren’t all about to suddenly die at the hands of an archangel. Alicia’s quick recovery, even if she clung to the side of her brother, helped with that. Everyone had relaxed a little further, if more somberly, when the body Lucifer had spoken of had been found. The wake for one hunter becoming the funeral of two. The mood was broken here and there by sudden, confused laughter as Dean continued to relate his Hitler tale. Dean quickly getting people on side with tales of their exploits.

It was only later in the night that Lucifer had taken Bucky aside and spoken to him seriously. The man turned pale as he spoke before nodding and hurrying away. Sam only hoped the hunter would do the right thing and tell Asa’s mother the truth about what had happened to her son. If he didn’t, Sam was going to make sure everyone knew eventually. Goodness knows he’d been making enough contacts today towards his network to make that easy. If he were lucky, he might even have the beginnings of the teams he would need to begin to open the chapter houses and use the old Men of Letters infrastructure against the new. Besides, the hunters of America needed every advantage they could get. Sam was determined that they were going to get it.

…

“Can we talk?”

“I’m not sure what you have to say to me,” Jody says, cracking open a new beer she’d retreated to the edge of the garden to drink. Lucifer shifted to stand a little away from her. He’d been thinking about this since he had seen her. Sam’s memories of her child are all too clear in his own mind. .

“I know my saying sorry won’t ever amount to anything,” Lucifer says at last.

“No. It won’t.” Jody snaps, drinking much of her beer at once in place of screaming at an archangel.

“But it’s there nonetheless. I am sorry,” Lucifer says, turning away to leave the woman be. Especially as he sees Mary Winchester approaching, looking the picture of concern. Obviously coming to come defend Jody if she needs it against the archangel. 

“You’re gonna look after those boys, right?” Jody calls to his retreating back. It makes him pause, feeling some of the knot of unwelcome guilt unwind in his chest.

“With all I have,” Lucifer says, giving her a nod of his head.

“Well, alright then.”

Lucifer walks away then. Disappearing back into the crowd of hunters in search of the only ones that really mattered to him. Honestly, he supposed, that was the best he could have expected it to go.

I’m proud of you, Sam’s words warm him through the bond as he finds his hunter. And that, perhaps, was all that mattered.

…

From: MOL Forward Base

To: MOL HQ

Disturbance noted in Central City. Considered to be the work of the Winchesters and unknown associates. Presumed to be the base of a group of gods. Building destroyed in entirety. No further loss of lives. Disturbance similar to a farm that was the last known location of the first operative.

Have covered the issue with reports of a gas leak.

Still no sign of missing operatives.

Please advise on next steps.

FROM: MOL HQ

To: MOL Forward Base

Continue to monitor. Gather information on allies.

Speed up the investigation into American hunters and allies.

Operatives are still considered AWOL from past temperament until further evidence is provided. If found, they are to be dealt with accordingly.

From: MOL Forward Base

To: MOL HQ

Further disturbance noted at mountain range. Unusual sights documented in the area. Geological disturbance not matched by damage to area. Singular mansion of uncertain residence lost in incident.  Believed angel interference. No survivors left in the area to question. Sign of deep magical traces in the area.

Please advise.

From: MOL HQ

To: MOL Forward Base

Consider the threat of the Winchesters and their associates upgraded. Investigation and identification of allies given top priority. Confirm rumours of angel interference as priority one.

Agent permitted to approach if the situation demands it.

…

The return to the bunker had been oddly peaceful. One week became two as they settled into their usual routine between hunts. Dean trying new recipes that were always an event to try and most often delicious; Lucifer was swiftly becoming his biggest fan in the kitchen as it became a game of introducing the angel to new foods. Sam losing himself mostly to his work on the network, but having caved and told Lucifer about his desire to learn how to use the grace to throw knives. Sam had since found himself at the mercy of the archangel’s daily training. Apparently, he had a lot more to learn than just knife throwing. Lucifer was intent on getting him more in touch with his grace.

The gym had more than doubled in size as Lucifer had decided they needed a space for sparring. The walls and floor lined with soft pads and magical warding to stop any real harm to themselves or the bunker. Sam had appreciated that they were finally going to learn just what this grace was capable of doing. Sometimes, though, Sam thought the archangel was using it as a way to drive him wild with desire and frustration all at once.

“You can do better than that, Sam,” Lucifer taunts, pressing the man further into the mat. Holding one of Sam’s arms behind his back as he leaned over him on his knees on the floor. Smirking softly as the human struggled against his hold with an annoyed grunt. Dodging the backwards thrust of his head towards his own. “So feisty.”

“Stop saying that and show me how,” Sam growls, flexing and twisting against the archangel again. It’s like trying to move a boulder off his back for the good it does him.

“I did!” Lucifer says, still grinning down at the back of Sam’s head.

“You threw me into a wall,” Sam says slowly, each word bit out through gritted teeth.

“But I did show you how,” Lucifer says, taking the opportunity to lean closer and bite his teeth gently into Sam’s neck. The shout of annoyance that is underlined by the most pleasant burst of arousal only urges him on. “I’m beginning to think you want to be in this position.”

“You’ve got so much more strength than me,” Sam says, only growing more frustrated. His skin tingling, not just from the bite, but the power beneath his skin that he just cannot seem to access.

“You fought me back in your own head without a single drop of grace,” Lucifer says, every word perfectly calculated to make Sam even more annoyed, “Now you can’t get out of one little hold?”

“You bastard,” Sam growls, and his head jerks back again as Sam also kicks back at Lucifer. Both are easily avoided, and Lucifer is delighted as he sees what he’s after growing in Sam’s eyes.

“Missed again,” Lucifer whispers, leaning in close to Sam’s ear and trying for as smug as possible, which for him is quite a great deal.

The burst of grace is almost immediate. Lucifer thrown back against the wall behind him with a soft thud. The archangel already laughing with delight as he hits the ground, clapping his hands once in pure pride at Sam’s achievement. A Sam who had already shot up to his feet to glare at him, hands clenched at his side and about to leap at him to continue the fight if it wasn’t for Lucifer’s laughter.

“I really don’t like your training methods,” Sam says, shifting back to cross his arms. His frown forced to lift a little as Lucifer rights himself and gifts him with a kiss.

“They get results, Sam. Besides, you have all my slower training in your head,” Lucifer continues, running a finger from Sam’s right temple back into his hair. “You just need to apply it to the body you’re in. Now, let’s try that again.”

“Still think you’re using it to feel me up,” Sam sighs, shifting back and taking up a sparing stance once more. Idly wondering if he would last more than a couple of minutes before he was pinned by the archangel again.

“I’m capable of multi-tasking,” Lucifer says, and darts in far faster than a normal human eye could see to strike at Sam. To his continued pride, Sam moves deftly out of the way, his arm coming up to push Lucifer’s arm away as his other rises to attempt a rebuttal of his own. Lucifer turns his speed up a notch and basks in Sam’s sudden triumph as he continues to match his pace. The trade of blows between them coming thick and heavy.

Lucifer takes the opportunity, when Sam’s face moves closer to his, to plant a kiss on his cheek. Watching Sam’s eyes widen before he stumbles back. A glimmer of annoyed shock turned into even more calculated moves from Sam. The human moving with ever more dangerous precision.

“You need to put more grace into your moves, Sam,” Lucifer says, as Sam manages to land a couple of hits at last. The two of them breaking apart to a small distance after, “You have enough that I should feel it. You know how to sculpt it to help you.”

“I’d be able to concentrate more if you didn’t suddenly kiss me,” Sam huffs, as always, the grace tries to stay just outside his grasp. It’s like dealing with an errant toddler. “I lose focus every time.”

“I know you do,” Lucifer says, and quite deliberately gives Sam a slow once-over with his eyes. He ruins the mood a little after by adding, “It is better than finding out what a distraction will do to you with someone who isn’t me.”

“Yes, but…” Sam says, and the flush shows entirely that he understands what Lucifer was doing, but it was how he was distracting Sam. Even if the bond didn’t telegraph completely how Sam was feeling, his face was an open book in that moment to Lucifer. He was learning.

“I’m sure you’ll manage, Sam,” Lucifer purrs, and he jolts Sam back into action as he lunges at him once again.

In the quiet of his mind, Sam had to admit, this was the most fun he’d ever had in training. He just wasn't going to admit that to Lucifer.

Chapter Text

Dean knew the moment he stepped into the kitchen, the best thing he could do was turn around and leave. The sight of Lucifer leaning against the counter, looking over a recipe book of all things, gave him premonitions of just what the immediate future might hold. None of it is good for a brother of one of the participants. He spins on the spot, hoping against hope he can get out before an archangel can spot him.

“Ah, Dean, good,” Lucifer says, his voice bright, but his hand landing on Dean’s shoulder feels more intimidating than any encounter they’ve ever had in the past. With a wince, his eyes close as he waits for the archangel’s next words. “I’d appreciate your help with recipes and some shopping.”

Yes, it was as Dean feared.  Lucifer is planning on wine and dining his brother, and he’s being conscripted to help. He’s happy for his brother, he really is, beyond all understanding; the angel is actually good for him. Goodness knows Sam had deserved a win when it came to relationships, and the immortal archangel seems to be that. What Dean doesn’t want is to be anywhere near their relationship milestones, certainly not ones that can only end one way. Lucifer, however, seems intent on making him an accomplice, and it’s not like he can say no.

“Sure, what do you need?” Dean asks, steeling himself with one deep breath, turning to see a look of actual relief on Lucifer’s face, and he finds himself softening.  Lucifer may as well be family at this point. (A thought that is still wildly weird to have, but Dean can live with it). He just might find a motel for the night.

“I have a recipe for a salad I know he likes, but I’m conflicted on the main course,” Lucifer says, guiding him to the cookbook. Lucifer has actually bookmarked a handful of recipes, and Dean wonders at just how strange his life has become that he’s giving cooking advice to an archangel who had once wanted to end the world.

“You should go for the fish. It’s light enough he won’t worry about the calories and still be special as we don’t do fish often,” Dean decides, pointing out the Salmon en croute. “You can drown it in vegetables as well, that he’ll love you for, the fitness freak.”

Dean actually feels Lucifer roll his eyes at that. He ignores it in favour of flipping to the bookmarked dessert options. That they’re all chocolate explosions shows how clearly Lucifer knows Sam. His brother might try and eat purely healthily, but sweet treats had always been his weakness. He glances through them and finds the one that’ll be easiest to make before handing the book back to the angel.

“Make me a list and I’ll go shopping for you,” Dean sighs, “and if you need more help, I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Dean,” Lucifer says, and he sounds so genuine that Dean actually dares pat him on the arm. That the archangel doesn’t glare at him seems like a major success.

“Out of curiosity, how are you keeping Sam distracted for the day?” Dean asks.

“I spent a couple of hours helping him learn how to use his grace to read any language and set him loose on the rare books in our room.”

Dean and Lucifer share a look before both break into matching grins.

...

Sam had curled himself up before the fireplace to work through the stack of books at his side. Tucking his long legs beneath him on the chair as he flipped through the pages of cuneiform. A forward at the start in Latin was the ramblings of the demon who’d spent years finding and collating this book of stories together from an assortment of clay tablets. That had been entertaining enough,  but the stories were a treasure. It was always pleasing to see how people in the past were so much like people are today.  It never failed to give him a strange sense of kinship. Sam was even getting used to the meanings of the script getting downloaded into his head.  Settling into him like it had always been there. That he was now reading cuneiform as easily as English was a genuine thrill, and one he wasn’t going to ever attempt to describe to Dean.

Sam doesn’t even look up as Lucifer comes back in a couple of hours later to lean against the side of his wingback chair and watch him read. He can feel Lucifer’s pleasure mix with his own, a relaxing unity after he’d had to ignore the frustrations coming from his archangel earlier. He’d asked once and only got back the clipped tones of your brother, which had seemed answer enough.

“So, how are you enjoying the Epic of Gilgamesh?”

“Scholars would go mad to know you have a complete edition,” Sam says, tone offhand as he’s still mostly focused on the writing.

“The fact I can keep the final lines from them delights me,” Lucifer laughs, earning himself a look from Sam, “There are fragments out there, they might find them. Not my problem.”

“As I’ve said before, you’re a menace,” Sam says, but he’s unable to hide his own small laugh at it all. His amusement fades into surprised pleasure as Lucifer takes the opportunity to move Sam’s book away and slip into his lap. As always, crowding up into Sam’s space. Sam can’t complain; he wants him there. “What do you want?”

“I want you to come eat dinner with me, Sam,” Lucifer says, his hands finding Sam’s shoulders to curl about the back of his neck. Holding him while not restricting him in any way. “It’s only fair you come while it’s still hot. I did cook it after all.”

“You cooked?” Sam says, more than a little startled as he stares up at the archangel in shock. “You? Why?”

“Well, Dean helped me,” Lucifer shrugs, running his thumb against the skin where Sam’s neck reached his jaw, “Your brother can get so controlling of his kitchen, let me tell you. Don’t tell him, but his advice was good. He has run away to a motel, though.”

“A motel? Lucifer, what are you planning?” Sam asks, unable to stop the sudden nerves twisting through his gut. All too aware that even without that, Lucifer would feel his pulse speeding in his neck right below his thumb.

“It’s all for you, Sam,” Lucifer says, and Sam has to force himself not to duck his head and hide from the intense gaze he’s suddenly under. As Lucifer keeps speaking, what he goes on to say makes Sam regret not doing so, “While for days I’d have loved nothing more than to force you to the floor of the gym and just take you when I win our sparring matches. I didn’t want any of this to ever feel like a one-night stand to you, Sam.”

“So you cooked?” Sam says, it’s the only thing he can think to say, his voice faint.

“Yes, Sam,” Lucifer nods with a smile, and instead of that gaze giving him a moment's peace, the archangel actually moves closer until the archangel is all Sam can see. “I’m going to feed you, entertain you, and then I’m going to bring you back to our rooms and melt your mind apart with pleasure.”

Sam is sure the whimper he hears can’t possibly have come from him as he swallows nervously. His eyes blown wide as he stares back at Lucifer. The sheer weight of Lucifer’s desire for this is so much heavier than the body on his legs. He doesn’t think Lucifer needs to wait for after to break his mind; he has no idea what to say.

“That is, of course, if you want me to,” Lucifer adds as the silence stretches, his smile turned soothing before planting a kiss on Sam’s forehead. It shatters through Sam’s anxiety. He’s just not used to being someone’s focus, so often the instigator to anything romantic. Ever the planner. He should have expected Lucifer to be far more hands-on.

“I do, yes,” Sam manages, his voice still strained, but the smile he gets that’s all pure happiness from Lucifer is far more bolstering. “So, what have you cooked?”

Sam ends up being led along to the library. He feels ridiculously touched and off-kilter all at once. One end of a table has been set up far fancier than he’s experienced since he lost Jess, with fine china, crystal wine glasses and several candles. Soft jazz music is even playing from a record player Lucifer had found somewhere.

“Go sit,” Lucifer says, and the kiss to Sam’s cheek is brief as Lucifer turns to disappear to the kitchen.

Sam is grateful for the quiet moment. He’s shaking a little as he takes a seat. He’d wanted Lucifer, he knew that. This, though, underlines it with a seriousness he’d always craved. How can a meal he hasn’t even started eating yet feel more like a white picket fence than the one he’d had with Amelia? He rubs at his face with his hands as he tries to steady himself, the swell of emotions almost impossible to deal with. That he can feel so much of the same from Lucifer in return is not helping.

The salad Lucifer brings out is a delight, but Sam couldn’t have named you any of the ingredients. He was too caught up in the moment and the deep revelations he’d had. He knew he’d managed the correct responses to Lucifer in conversation, but if pressed, he wouldn’t have been able to describe half of what had been discussed between Lucifer and Naomi yesterday. Things only got marginally better from there. The cooking was delicious, and definitely had his brother’s hallmarks across it because Sam knew any skills the archangel got in the kitchen had not come from him. It was amusing how nervous the archangel was in checking that he was enjoying the food, for all Lucifer tried to hide it. He saw sides of the archangel that no one else ever got to see, and they were sides he hadn’t ever expected, even after living the angel's life.

Proof of that came after he’d indulged in the chocolate cheesecake that was a luxury he hadn’t wanted to give in to, already feeling so full from dinner, but Lucifer had made a joke about temptations, and he’d laughed so much he’d given in. At least that’s the excuse he was going to use for today. The pieces he’ll eat tomorrow, he’ll find entirely new ones for. After it, though, Lucifer had changed the music and pulled Sam up into his arms. They were now slow dancing. Well, dancing was perhaps too gracious a word. They were turning on the spot a little as they held each other. It seemed close enough. Sam had expected it to feel more awkward, but perhaps it was all about the company you were doing it with and the guarantee of no audience. Still, no audience was going to be a requirement should Lucifer ever convince him to do this again.

“Why are you doing all this?” Sam says, at last. Still smiling at the Archangel, but he can’t help feeling that this all feels unreal. It’s all just so much. There’s so much joy here, he doesn’t know what to do with it all.

“I rather thought I had,” Lucifer says, leaning closer to plant a swift kiss on Sam’s lips.

“But I don’t need any of this.”

“That’s entirely the point,” Lucifer murmurs, stopping their slight motions to hold Sam tighter. Reading what he can from Sam’s face and their bond. His wings spill out around them, a melee of feathers that conceal them from the world as Lucifer’s hands move to cup Sam’s face. “Sam, with this relationship we’re both in it for the long haul ,you know that, right? It doesn’t mean a few glorious years or multiple decades. This is it, forever. I’m an archangel; we’re very permanent in our choices, and you always have been as well. Do you think either of us would be happy if we approached this as anything but serious?”

Sam shakes his head. He’d understood that on some level, but to have it spelt out? It should have dropped the bottom out of his world at the scale of time before him; instead, it just makes him want Lucifer more. The certainty of direction and the understanding that he can have this? It’s not the everyday person’s normal, but perhaps it can be his. Perhaps it can be theirs.

“Then why wouldn’t I start it at the level of seriousness that I want from you, Sam?” Lucifer asks, his wings tightening around them as Lucifer moves to almost be flush up against him. Sam’s hands tighten into the back of Lucifer’s shirt as his eyes widen. “I want all that you can give me, Sam. I want to give you all that you need as well, all that you want. I’d give you the world on a platter at your feet if I thought you wanted it, but I know you don’t. All of this tonight seems rather easy in comparison.”

Sam doesn’t have words. How can there be any reply to that? All he can do is claim Lucifer’s lips with his own. There’s nothing chaste about it. He pours all he feels for the archangel into it. A tumult of joy and peace and passion. Lucifer returns it as good as he gets. He barely even registers he’s being walked backwards until the wings part enough for his back to land against a bookshelf with a thud, making him groan. Lucifer takes it as an opportunity to tilt Sam’s head to the side and bite down into his neck, leaving Sam shaking as his hands work their way beneath Sam’s clothing. Even while Sam’s hands retaliate in kind. So, Lucifer only bites along Sam’s neck harder. Leaving a line of red, flushed marks in his wake.

“Fuck,” Sam groans, staring up at a canopy of feathers at the sharp spike of near pain from his neck. It’s riding the edge of too much. It’s perfect, and he has to fight not to just melt against the bookcase. He refuses to be passive. Needs to feel Lucifer as much as he needs those hands exploring his own body.

Shirts are lost to the floor and not all land there intact. Lost from thought, deemed unimportant to the learning of what makes the other moan, the other shudder. Memories only went so far. There was nothing like hands-on experience. The marks along Sam’s neck still pulsing in time with his racing heart as Lucifer’s mouth moved on to worry along his collarbone and chest, fingers delighting in the muscle definition that was a measure of Sam’s dedicated soul. It was matched by the tight throbbing in his jeans as his cock strained for any extra space and found none.

Sam reaches for his jeans, pulling at the fastening before his hands are batted away. Lucifer’s own replacing them, tugging them open and finding Sam’s shaft in one swift motion that leaves him breathless. Gripping at the shelf as cool fingers explore him with firm touches. There’s no hesitation to the archangel. A firm hand that seeks out every part of him. Sam’s cock growing harder with every twist of Lucifer’s fingers around him. Lucifer’s face turned to watch his every twitch of arousal before leaning closer to pull at Sam’s earlobe with his teeth, this time so teasingly gently in direct contrast to his hand.

“Unless you have a problem with it, I’m about to put you in my mouth,” Lucifer purrs into Sam’s ear. It nearly makes Sam’s eyes roll up into his head at just the thought of it. Lucifer weaponising his own desire for consent right back into Sam.

“No, no problem,” Sam gasps, trying to find any ounce of casual left within himself, but with his cock so taken in hand, it’s impossible.

“Oh, good,” Lucifer says, the words filled with such deep satisfaction as he drops to his knees. There’s no submission in the gaze he directs up at Sam as he pins the human back against the bookcase with both his hands. Keeping his eyes locked with Sam as he leans forward to run his tongue with devilish purpose along the entire length stood proud before him, right down to his balls. Teeth purposefully threatening to bite at them before he retreats.

“Don’t you even think about it,” Sam gasps, his chest heaving. Tensing even at the teased threat before choking off as Lucifer takes that moment to take the entirety of him into his mouth. It’s a sudden hot, wet torment about him. Sam’s hands fly to curl into Lucifer’s hair to have some grounding against the pleasure that roars through him. The smug self-satisfaction from the archangel only increases his need as Lucifer slowly swallows about Sam’s cock. All Sam can do is moan. A sound that cuts off in growing need as Lucifer retreats only to lap at the head of Sam’s shaft. That tongue curling and twisting around the tip of him as it split into two. “You...Luc-…you.” It’s something he could never have expected, and he’d have collapsed were it not for Lucifer’s firm hold of him. Lucifer’s smirk is still so intimidatingly thrilling, even from where he kneels before him, coaxing every inch of Sam into his mouth and back into his throat.

It's a maddening display of an archangel’s natural talent as Lucifer turns Sam into a flushed mess right there in the library. Sam’s fingers tensing and pulling at Lucifer’s hair with every suck and swallow, but the being is immovable. Fixed on taking Sam apart at his pace and how he chooses, and how clearly the bond shows how deeply the angel wants Sam to give in to the pleasure. Yet, there’s no fighting for more, and Sam isn’t quite ready to plead for it, not so early on.

“I’m gonna-“ Sam groans, his body tensing as he teeters on the edge. Lucifer’s only answer to that is to shift a hand to press a finger against Sam’s rim. It’s a shock and such a new and intimate touch that he flies over the edge. Coming hard into Lucifer’s mouth as he curls over the archangel. Moaning out his pleasure that only peaks higher as Lucifer’s mixes with his own. The hand on his ass shifting only to squeeze at one cheek. Sam stares wild-eyed down at Lucifer as he leans back enough only to purposefully swallow, his other hand rising to snap loudly.

They land on their bed. Lucifer suddenly poised above Sam. Caging him to the bed and pinning Sam’s hands with one of his own above his head. The wings no longer concealed Sam but raised predatorily in the air above them. Sam writhes as he realises the rest of their clothes have not survived the flight. Shuddering more as Lucifer makes a low sound of pleasure as he watches that makes the bond sing between them.

“Oh, I’m going to take you apart, Sam,” Lucifer groans, leaning close to press a fierce kiss to Sam’s mouth. Filled with salt and greedy desire. Despite himself, Sam feels his cock give a desperate twitch to be involved again already.

Lucifer is a cheat, Sam decides maybe minutes or hours later, as those long fingers work inside him. Two fingers had become a maddening dance against his rim and deep against his prostate. Twisting and splitting inside him only to return to his prostate and sparkle against it with grace. Leaving Sam twitching and gasping beneath the archangel, wanting to do more but unable to do anything but take everything Lucifer chooses to do to him. His legs spread wide and jerking against the sheets as his fingers dig into the pillow beneath his head. Every time Sam goes to open his mouth to plead for more, for anything, Lucifer just attacks his prostate again. Making Sam’s eyes roll back into his head as the pleasure spikes, toes curling into the sheets as he shudders. Lucifer seems to delight in this. Every twitch and gasp and writhe of Sam’s body only increases the dark depths of arousal that swells from the archangel. This is what Lucifer wanted after all, to make Sam fall apart completely, and he was getting that.

“That’s it, Sam,” Lucifer says, his voice soft as he drives Sam towards yet another release with just the insistent thrusting of his fingers. “Come once more for me, then I’ll give you what you want. Let yourself go for me, Sam.”

There’s no denying the desires of an archangel. The pressure in the room increasing as the weight of Lucifer’s attentions and power presses Sam into the bed. It goes straight into his prostate and out through his cock, forcing the orgasm right out of him with a sudden shout. Those insistent fingers within him prolong it until there’s nothing, not even breath, left within him.

It’s only then that Lucifer chooses to fill him with his cock. Sinking his hard length into him with a slow, deliberate pace. It’s the first time anyone has taken Sam this way, but there’s no fear, there’s no pain. Only the relief of the emptiness that the absence of Lucifer’s fingers had caused. Replaced instead by that much wider, and desperately craved presence within him. He can’t even tense against the intrusion from the boneless aftershocks of his release. It leaves him open enough for Lucifer to seat himself within him completely. It still doesn’t feel like enough.

“There you go,” Lucifer says, leaning closer to press gentle kisses to Sam’s face that Sam tries to messily return. Fingers loosening from the pillow as Sam reaches to wrap around Lucifer. Grounding himself there, needing to find some security in the strength of the archangel, because he knows Lucifer is far from finished with him. It’s as overwhelming as he’d always hoped.

Lucifer takes him with a gentle ferocity that leaves Sam without words and almost without thought. He takes him with an insistent pace that leaves Sam breathless. Pouring his need and his delight into every kiss they share, as his body and their bond light up with equal pleasure between them. If it was overwhelming before, it was maddening now. There was no telling where either of their pleasures ended and the others began. It was a mess of need that drove them higher. The bed creaking beneath them as Lucifer only took Sam harder as it built.

Their arousal crescendoed between them each time rising to a peak only for the edge to be pushed higher. They writhe together with more desperation with every missed chance. Lucifer driving into Sam with such force that they both know he’ll feel it in the morning. Neither of them care. The room whites out as they come at last. The bond clicks together for one shining moment as all they know is the pleasure of it. A frozen tableau of finally satisfied need. Both left to breathe heavily against the other as the world tries to slowly right itself about them. Trading slow kisses that do nothing to help their recovery, but do leave them grinning at each other in satisfaction. If it was also something more than that, it didn’t need saying, not yet. This was more than enough for now.

…

It's the peace Gabriel became aware of first. The soothing sound of waves and the distant sound of voices only underlining the safety that surrounds him. It's undeniable in its reach, and he can feel it down to every fibre of his being. The ripped pieces of himself stitched together in the glowing tracery of heaven. Almost as if he was some Kintsugi creation brought to life once more. Their grace was so integral to an archangel that its violent desecration had taken him from himself. Now he feels renewed. If not yet entirely whole.

The memories still remained, there beyond the sanctuary of the world he had created in his mind, if he dared to look. But his power gave him distance and the stable landscape to face it with more than fear now. Someone from his first and most missed family had come and given him time. It was a freedom he hadn’t imagined would ever be his once Asmodeus had begun feeding on him.

Gabriel doesn’t know how long he lies there just enjoying the gentle comfort of the bed. Just the casual comfort of the warmth of it is a precious treasure. It was actually a wonder that he was still within his body. He doubts any of his siblings could ever really appreciate how grounding and necessary flesh could be when you’ve been in it long enough. Either way, it makes lying there all too easy, and he could easily have drifted off into proper sleep again if not for the sound suddenly close to him. The sound of something firm hitting the floor.

With slow care, he turns towards the sound and opens his eyes. The list of surprising things continues as he finds Sam Winchester sat asleep at his bedside, a book fallen to the floor at his feet as he slumbered on unaware. Evidently, his entertainment as the human had been keeping an eye on him, and wasn’t that a marvel? A living human in heaven. Though, as he looks closer, he has to reevaluate that thought.

Gabriel sits up with the shock of it, pulling out the drip that had fed him with barely a thought as he looks Sam over. Resting one hand on the bed as he leans closer to inspect the sleeping person. There’s no denying the grace that swirls within Sam’s soul. Sam Winchester is no mere human anymore. No human could be bonded to heaven like that or contain such grace. If Gabriel didn’t know better, he’d think he was looking at a baby angel. A baby angel formed from Lucifer’s grace.

“What have you done, Sam?” Gabriel murmurs, the relief sharp within him, even against the confusion he feels at the state of Sam’s Soul? Grace? … Being is the best he can decide. It’s only then that he remembers, though hazily, the kiss he had witnessed. What the fuck, was right. You get taken away for seven years, and when you get back, the world has gone mad, and the two people who were most important to you have got together.

Slipping from the bed, he pads over to the large glass windows and open door that leads to the unfamiliar outside he sees beyond. Staring out into the most welcome sight he’d seen in heaven since the Court. The veranda leading out towards a lake beyond. The greenery of the veranda shields it from the brilliant light that bathes the water he can see. It’s the beauty of a world he has long missed, and he’s smiling before he even realises it.

Daringly, he steps out onto the veranda, moving with quiet feet through the shaded area to find out more about where he’s been taken. The only furniture he finds is a table covered in a multitude of strange designs and plans. If he didn’t know better, it seemed like someone actually cared about what humans got up to once they’d died.

Looking out across the beach, he finally sees some more movement. His brother Lucifer, setting up a fire pit for what looks like a barbecue with Bobby Singer, while clearly arguing with the man about what fish would be a good idea to add to the lake. Gabriel rubs at his eyes a moment, trying to find some answers to all this insanity, before he looks again. No, that really was happening. Bobby Singer and his brother were bickering, and what had to be John Winchester and a collection of other supposed hunters, all watching the two banter back and forth.

“I still think you should change it on him daily and see if he notices,” a hunter says.

“We don’t need your two cents, Rufus,” Bobby complains, pointing a firelighter at the man.

“No, no. I think the man’s got a point,” Lucifer says, then actually laughing, “You want to fish, and it would give you a challenge.”

His words seem to set the other hunters laughing as well, and Gabriel sits down on the stairs of the veranda to watch his brother in amazed happiness. Crossing his arms over his knees as he rests his head against them. He’d dreamed of a moment like this for millennia.

“Challenge, you say. Dealing with Rufus every day is a challenge; you should try it sometime.” Bobby says with a snort. Returning to his work of setting up the fire. “I do see none of you are helping.”

“Hey!” Rufus says, quite indignant, even as Lucifer gives an amused half-shrug.

“You said you had it well in hand and not to interfere,” John says, sounding all too pleased with himself.

“He did, didn’t he?” Lucifer says, idly assembling a few more pieces of the firepit together. “He also said I wasn’t to ‘mojo’ it up entirely, as putting it together would be more fun. When does the fun begin, Bobby?”

Gabriel watches on avidly as they continue to bicker; it all seems so friendly. It all looks so expected. Lucifer must spend time around these people often, and none of them are in the awful boxes Michael had envisioned for souls. He’s staring at a future he had always wanted.

“I’d hoped they’d have finally decided on the fish by now,” Sam Winchester’s voice comes from behind him suddenly and Gabriel stills. Shifting his gaze enough to watch Sam come to sit at his side, his own eyes fixed on the bantering crowd ahead. At least they were closer to having a functional fire pit now.

“They seem to enjoy arguing too much to get there,” Gabriel says, with a slight, amused roll of his eyes. He gets a grin from Sam at that, which settles him. After everything he’d been forced to do, he’d wondered if he’d ever see that smile again. It also seems to have earned Gabriel Sam’s permanent attention, as he doesn’t look away.

“Yeah, they probably do,” Sam agrees, and his smile softens into something even more caring. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ll take an order of shocked with a side order of confusion to go, Sam.” Gabriel says with a self-depreciating laugh. “Oh, and the low down on just what’s going on, if that wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“Well, we rescued you from Asmodeus,” Sam says, going slowly if only to find the words. “Lucifer and I, God has helped us forge this connection between us after all trace of the Mark was finally purged from him. It’s helping us fix everything that’s been broken over the years. There’s so much more to do, but finding you was our top priority. Once we got the angels back in heaven and actually being angels, of course.”

“Of course,” Gabriel deadpans, but he knows exactly what must have happened. That first day of being fed on was a milestone in his memory that couldn’t be avoided. The pain of it, not so much the violation of himself, but the knowledge that so many of his siblings must have fallen to their agonising fiery death.

“We’re able to do this because God finally reconciled with Amara. They’re off learning how to be family with each other, while Lucifer and I have somehow been left in charge here. Not directly, of course, he kinda snuck that up on us, but we know someone had to do it. We figure we can’t do worse than Michael.” Sam continues to explain, and Gabriel marvels at how personal some of this seems to Sam. He wonders just what this connection he shares with Lucifer has done. He sounded just like his brother then, when he’d disparaged the eldest archangel.

“I’ve really missed a lot, huh?” Gabriel says, and some of his nervous concern must have shown because Sam looks at him in reassurance.

“Yes, but nothing that you need to immediately worry about, or at all,” Sam says. “We didn’t rescue you to have you thrust back into things again. We rescued you because we wanted to, and you needed help. You’re family, Gabriel.”

Gabriel falls silent at that. The words give him a level of peace he hadn’t expected. A private fear of only ever being turned to when needed, when useful, when he could be a tool, silenced. It’s easier to focus on that than the delight of Sam Winchester calling him family. He hadn’t even expected he’d be able to call even Lucifer family again, but it seemed he was finally getting his big brother back and more besides. By…everything… he hoped so.

“I understand why, by the way,” Sam says suddenly, pulling Gabriel from his introspection. Continuing on with, “Mystery spot and all that. I really get it, and in some ways I wish I’d listened. But if I had we wouldn’t have all this. Not worth dwelling on the what ifs, though I suppose.”

“No, it’s not,” Gabriel agrees. Slightly marvelling at the ease Sam speaks of it all. He’s truly thought he’d been burning every possible bridge he could have had with the man on the altar of potential existence.

“So, you think you’re ready to talk to Lucifer?” Sam asks, “If I have to keep putting him off, I think he’s going to bend the metal pole he’s been staring at for the last five minutes into a pretzel.”

Gabriel looks over to the once-bickering group to find they’ve gone quiet. Everyone is conspicuously not looking in their direction, and as far as they can from the archangel in their midst, who has become a statue. A statue staring at a metal bar that could not possibly have earnt such an introspective gaze. He wonders how much of the conversation Lucifer had been listening to, probably all of it.

“I’d like that,” Gabriel manages, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth as he speaks. His eyes fixed on Lucifer as he immediately turns and begins striding up the beach towards him. Not quite a run, but he can see how eager his brother is to just be with him already, without startling him.

“Hello brother,” Lucifer says, his voice gentle as he grins down at him. His grace so obviously twisted by all that had happened to him, but it’s so clearly his brother. Now empty of all that insistent rage and shot through with the glowing light of Sam’s soul.

Gabriel doesn’t even think. He pushes himself up and flies into his brother’s arms in one frantic movement. So forcibly that Lucifer is forced to stagger back as Gabriel wraps about him with his arms and legs. His face burying into Lucifer’s shoulder as his older brother finally holds him back. Wrapping him in his arms in an embrace he’s missed for aeons.

“Lucifer, brother,” Gabriel whispers, pressing closer and basking in the presence of the one he adored the most in the universe, finally returned to him. Feeling nothing but welcome in the grace that reaches out to greet his own in turn.

“Hello little one,” Lucifer whispers back, kissing the top of Gabriel’s head, and it's this that breaks him. Gabriel cries silent tears into his brother’s shoulder. He’s home.

Chapter Text

“You see, I’m fine,” Gabriel scoffs, rolling his eyes a little at the continued attentions of the twin healers. Even if he does soothe it a little by smiling at the two angels a second later, “fusspots.”

“Your grace is still very low,” Urfiel says, trying to caution the archangel. He even manages to sound a little stern, but Gabriel is unmoved.

“Yes, but not dangerously so,” Gabriel says, waving away his younger brother’s worry, “I’m used to not using it much. I’m not about to hurt myself.”

“I still wish you’d let us examine you out of your... body,” Marfiel says, giving said body an obviously disgusted frown. Gabriel gives a half laugh at that, looking to Sam and Lucifer stood near his bedside to flash them an amused smirk.

“Well, that ain’t happening,” Gabriel says, “and if heaven saw fit to wake me, you can’t really complain. Anything I should be aware of?”

“Just don’t stress your grace with anything serious, and we’d prefer it if you didn’t fly for the next couple of weeks as the healing settles.”

“Now that I can do,” Gabriel says, beaming at them, “I can always use Luci as a taxi service when I need.” The soft huff from the sidelines makes the use of the old nickname worth it. That and Sam’s aborted laugh. He can only imagine Lucifer’s glare as he continues to smile at the younger angels. “Now, shoo because I want to go out and enjoy uncertainly cooked meat on this new beach my brother has made.”

It’s with a great show of reluctance that the twins leave. Repeating their instructions in firmer tones before they finally exit the room. In their absence, Gabriel turns to look at Lucifer and Sam and is once again startled by the sparkling interplay of grace and soul between them. It’s as remarkable as it is beautiful, which is really unfair considering it is them. That they both have equal looks of concern for him, though, is quite frustrating. He isn't quite as helpless as they seem to fear.

“Okay, yes. I cried. But I’m fine.” Gabriel says, trying to glare at them, but he’s derailed as they share a look. The strange bond between them glows brighter as he watches, and his glare morphs into an accusatory finger, “Oh no, that’s worse than talking about me behind my back. Don’t you go having secret conversations right in front of my face!”

“Ah, sorry,” Sam says, sounding a little abashed, while Lucifer gives Gabriel an unrepentant grin. All the sharp edges of darkness within it are gone, and his brother from aeons past is all that remains. He’s missed that grin, “We forget we’re doing it sometimes.”

“Well, if that’s the case, you’re taking sharing a brain cell to a whole new level, guys,” Gabriel says, “Now, going to snap me up some clothes so I can have the first good time in a long time, or am I forever relegated to pyjamas?”

“They do suit you,” Lucifer gripes, the huff all empty annoyance over the true humour underneath, the tableau completed as Sam actually elbows him in the side.

That sets Gabriel off laughing as he falls back onto the bed. Only laughing harder as a pile of clothes suddenly lands on his head. Just existing like this again, by heaven, Gabriel could drown in it and never come up for air.

“Oh, what a joy it is to have my brother back with me,” Lucifer deadpans, and Gabriel answers that with a pointed middle finger in his brother’s general direction while still buried beneath the clothes that shake from his good humour. Their grace still brushes against each other in happiness, making the old familiar teasing all the more nostalgic.

“This is my life now, herder of archangels,” Sam grouches as he unburied Gabriel, and for a moment, he’s worried he’s upset the human because his tone is so flat, but the smile that greets him belies the fact. Somehow, serious Sam is joining in with the joking, “Now, neither of you needs to eat, but I’d like food sometime this evening.”

It was a great night, even if it was spent in the company of hunters. These were, however, the extended Winchester family, and they just enfolded Gabriel into their conversations as if he’d always been there. Everyone was also used to the routine of avoiding the difficult questions after someone had been through a traumatic event. Something that came as quite a relief and allowed Gabriel to truly relax. Despite being sandwiched between Lucifer and Sam, and left to feel that strange bond swirl about him to a maddening degree. What even were they? What had his father even done?

The food was equally delightful. As an archangel, he had never needed to eat, but he’d spent centuries with his grace so deeply buried that he’d learnt the feel of hunger. To sate it now was another item on the pile of joys this day was providing. Even if it wasn’t quite the sugar he was looking for. You can only pretend to be a trickster for so long before you become it in some ways. The bleed-through of belief went both ways.

“So, where’s the other half of the Winchester co-dependency?” Gabriel asks in a quiet moment between one treat and the next. His words punctuated as he licks at his fingers for the remaining traces of the marinade. Every simple action now that he was free was such a pure delight.

“Dean?” Sam asks, looking a little abashed as Gabriel only rolls his eyes with a nod, “He’s on a ghost hunt. Cas is with him, so he’ll be fine.”

“Surely he’d be fine all by himself with a ghost?” Gabriel says, and his confusion grows as Sam gives him a sudden grin.

“Not when it’s a haunted hospital with about half a dozen of them and a poltergeist. Dean got called in by a couple of hunters we met recently,” Sam says, “Seems we’ve gained a reputation for dealing with difficult things.”

“Don’t you mean impossible things?” Lucifer laughs from Gabriel’s other side, and he swallows as Lucifer’s arm comes around his shoulder. It’s such casual ease from his brother and it warms right through him.

“Yes, you do make that point quite often,” Sam says, shifting to rest his head against the hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. The archangel isn’t entirely sure what to do about the easy closeness, but he’s a selfish enough being to just enjoy what he’s being given while it lasts. Especially as none of the humans around them seem bothered by the display, even if John Winchester gives them a slow look. Gabriel isn't quite sure what it means, but the elder hunter turns away to talk to Bobby again, so Gabriel decides it isn't important.

“So, how impossible are we talking here?” Gabriel asks, already wondering how much he’s going to regret asking.

“Well, you know we stopped the apocalypse,” Sam says, his tone bland even if Lucifer tenses at that, and the guilt his brother exudes briefly is startling, “Then there was Raphael and the Leviathan. Those were not fun. Abaddon and Metatron. Dean got the Mark of Cain because he was convinced he could use it to help. The idiot. I tried to save him from it, and that led to Amara being released and the world nearly ended again, but Chuck and Amara have made up, and here we are.”

“If that’s the summary, I think I’d hate the long form,” Gabriel jokes, “If we can keep the world ending events until I’m back to full strength, I’d be grateful.”

“We’ll do our best,” Sam says, sounding entirely serious, but Gabriel can feel the human’s grace dance in amusement. Only a Winchester would find talking about world-ending events funny, but then you can only live through so many before it becomes normal. He does need to speak to Lucifer soon about that grace, though.

“You better,” Gabriel says.

“Yes, we have quite enough to deal with without adding more Winchester drama to the mix,” Lucifer says with an overly casual tone.

“How is it our drama?” Sam says, glaring at Lucifer from Gabriel’s shoulder. “You were part of the cause of the first one!”

“Was I, or was I not, made an honorary Winchester?” Lucifer says, his smile down at Sam positively wicked. It leaves the human floundering as the air around them fills with surprised happiness that only an angel could feel. Gabriel is positively taken with the interplay. Watching these two is probably going to be as entertaining in thousands of years as it is now.

“Was he always such a menace?” Sam says, shifting up to look at Gabriel with such an earnest expression, “Memories can be biased, please tell me they were biased.”

“Yes, he was,” Gabriel says, giving Sam a delighted smile of his own as Lucifer makes an offended sound next to him. Internally, though, Gabriel only grows more confused. Memories? How was Sam still even standing if he’d experienced anything from the perspective of an archangel? On one hand, it’s great to have something to focus on to truly cement him in the present, but this is just wild.

“Who knew that archangels would be so entertaining?” Bobby’s voice cuts through from the peanut gallery.

“Who knew my family would fill up with them?” John says in turn, “We’re never getting rid of them.”

“You see if I make you a barbecue again,” Lucifer sighs, and it’s all so incongruous that Gabriel falls back into the sand because he’s laughing so hard. He’s gone from a den of torture to a strange heaven-based sitcom. He couldn’t have designed it better himself.

Later, once the humans had all retreated to their private heavens to sleep, Gabriel watched as Lucifer quietly fought against Sam’s desire to stay. He could already tell that his brother was going to lose this fight. He’d retreated to look out over the lake as people had started to leave, but had turned back as Sam had refused to leave.

“Will you feel better if I’m here?” Sam says, voice cracking with his need for sleep. His gaze is steady on Lucifer despite the yawn he’s clearly fighting.

“That’s not the point, Sam. You need sleep,” Lucifer says, and Gabriel’s breath catches in his throat as he watches how tenderly his brother caresses Sam’s cheek. He should look away back over the lake behind him, but he’s transfixed.

“Which I can do as easily here,” Sam retorts, his smile at Lucifer kind but also victorious, “So, go speak to your brother, and I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“And you say I’m the menace,” Lucifer says, shaking his head as the bench beneath Sam turns into a hammock he settles into with a happy sigh. The kiss they share then is too much for Gabriel, and he spins on his heel to look out at the waters. Quietly cursing himself for his own obsessions with unobtainable people. He stays silent as Lucifer approaches him and can only hope his grace hasn’t given away his momentary turmoil.

For a long while they stand there in silence. Gabriel’s arms crossed over his chest while Lucifer’s hands find a home in his pockets. Both of them listening to the quiet lapping of the waves and staring up into a night sky of darkened nebula light instead of stars. Gabriel hadn’t realised how much he’d missed the tapestry of heaven until today. Or perhaps he hadn’t really wanted to think about how much he’d lost when he’d run.

“I know you have questions,” Lucifer says at last.

“Ya think?” Gabriel says, giving a sigh as he kicks at the sand. Where does he even begin? How about what’s right in front of his face, he decides. “You and Sam. Sam gave me the impression Dad was involved somehow. What actually happened?”

“When Amara was released, it damaged the cage enough that I was able to reach Sam’s dreams,” Lucifer says, an edge to his words that can only be regret, “I convinced him I was God, telling him I had to be freed. He believed it right till he got to the cage. He was never going to let me out, but Cas was desperate enough in the situation to say yes. I used the opportunity to torment the Winchesters more, but I was trying to help in part against our aunt.” There’s nothing but self-disgust in some of his words, so Gabriel doesn’t say anything, just listens. “One of us was never going to be enough in that fight, but I was deluded enough in my own abilities to think otherwise. Somehow, the Winchesters found Dad and convinced him to help. They even got Dad to give me an apology for the cage, even if it was stilted. We tried to defeat Amara, failed obviously. She tore me out of Cas and stripped the remains of the Mark from me as if deciding I wasn’t even worth cursing anymore.”

For a long moment, Lucifer is silent, his gaze downturned to the sand below him. Gabriel wonders what he can say about any of this. It’s as mad as the apocalypse had been, worse even. So he waits, hoping his brother will find the heart to continue.

“By the time I came to, I was hurting, fractured, but alive. I needed a vessel to heal because I certainly wasn’t going back to heaven. Not when it was clear Dad had already left and I was forgotten about again. I found Sam,” Lucifer continues, “He’d been kidnapped by the Men of Letters, and they’d drugged and tortured him. Even then, he’d still have been able to resist me, but Dad can’t stop meddling. He’d asked Sam to say yes to me, so even though it killed him, Sam did. That’s when everything changed.” Lucifer smiles then, turning his face up towards the sky. “We became one Gabriel. Even now, we can’t really separate. He’s lived my life and I’ve lived his. We are each other as much as we are ourselves."

“That should be impossible,” Gabriel says, stunned by the revelation. The Enochian through Lucifer’s form makes so much more sense now he has the story. It’s not a biological cage; it's a restraint so Lucifer and Sam can be individuals. An unbelievable gift from their father to acknowledge that they both needed their separate existences.

“We know,” Lucifer says with a nod, looking back to Sam’s sleeping form with a smile that fades into a slight frown, “We’re still aren’t sure what it’ll mean for Sam. I’ve reassured him as best I can, but we both know he’s changing.”

“You’re not worried about yourself?” Gabriel asks.

“If I become more human-” Lucifer begins, before shaking his head as he turns back towards the lake, “No, I have become more human, but that’s no bad thing.” He ignores Gabriel’s spluttered laugh at his side, “I’m human in the best of ways. I’m human in the ways that matter to Sam. But, I’m still an archangel. I’ve just been given another perspective, as it were. Sam is gaining a whole lot more than that.”

“I’ve seen the connection to heaven he has,” Gabriel says, “You have to know what that means.”

“I couldn’t know for certain,” Lucifer says, his tone careful. He had known, he just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. “This is all so new.”

“Shall I tell you what I see when I look at Sam?” Gabriel says, stepping closer to his brother. Gesturing back at the sleeping form with his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the worried eyes of his older brother. “I don’t really see a human any more, not really. I see a baby angel that thinks they’re a human.” Lucifer’s resigned sigh shows how much he secretly agreed with his brother’s assessment. “Have you told him?”

“I think he’s already worked it out on some level,” Lucifer murmurs, moving away to walk down the beach, his brother at his side. He needed to burn off some of the nervous energy the conversation was creating. “Being human is important for any hunter, even more so for Sam and his complicated relationship with his powers in the past. It helps that we have Dean on side.”

“It’ll have to be made clear sooner rather than later,” Gabriel says, giving a small laugh as he remembers just how dogged Sam can be, “An angry Sam Winchester isn’t something I want to deal with when he can fly after you.”

“Oh Father,” Lucifer groans, his body twitching with an actual wince as he walks, “We’ll be lucky if we can keep him in the solar system.”

Gabriel laughs at the thought of it. He quickly sobered, though, as more of his pressing questions came to mind.

“So, who did you kill to find me?”

“Sam shot Sleipnir and Narfi to help me make a point to Loki. Once we had the information, we went after Asmodeus.” Lucifer explains, his voice darkening as the righteous fury of an archangel tinges his words, “They’re still alive, but wishing they weren’t in Hell. I have Crowley watching over the little collection for you, should you ever wish to deal with them.”

“You actually left them alive for me?” Gabriel says, coming to a halt to stare at his brother in surprise.

“We’ve all been instruments of Father’s vengeance. I thought you deserved an opportunity for your own,” Lucifer says, “I made sure they’d be of no danger to anyone again, and the King of Hell is guarding them personally.”

“That’s-” And Gabriel swallows. Vengeance had been what had kept him going in those moments of lucidity where he couldn’t hide within himself. Now he had it before him? “Maybe one day.”

…

Dean ducked as another charred and broken brick sailed over his head into the wall behind him. Settling against the upturned desk in the hospital as he looks to the Banes siblings sheltering behind a nearby bed in the long ward.

“Still think I was kidding about burning the place down for a second time to see if it sticks?” Dean asks, reloading his shotgun rounds.

“It was you who said we just needed to reach the morgue!” Alicia says, firing out at the most recent shade that flickered into view nearby. In the chaos of the hospital, it was hard to work out what was angered ghost and what was the poltergeist in the group stirring them up. Either way, they all needed dealing with and quickly.

“Probably, I said probably. Where else were we going to find information in a burnt-out hospital?” Dean gripes, shifting to cast an eye over the top of the desk to find the hallway unnaturally quiet. “Where did they go?”

“I think that would be my fault,” Castiel says, and he’s suddenly there at Dean’s side. It’s only through great practice that Dean doesn’t jump out of his skin. “I have checked the local graveyards. It was as we thought, none of them fit the timeframe we think we're working with. It’s likely they were all here when the hospital burnt and they were never found.”

"That's a lot of people they didn't search for," Alicia murmurs, evidently concerned about the numbers.

“So, they could be anywhere in this place?” Max sighs alongside her, “Great.”

“You’re a witch, can you do a locating spell or something?” Dean says, giving Max a look.

“You have an angel, can’t he help with that?” Max retorts.

“I can.”

“He’s not some sort of pet.”

Castiel and Dean share a look as they speak at the same time. Dean does look a little betrayed that Castiel has so quickly joined Max’s side. Even if just a little.

“Well, I can, Dean,” Castiel says. “There’s a room on the basement level that feels darker than the rest of the building. Much of the structure has fallen into the corridor to it, but I can either clear it or fly us around it.”

“You’re clearing it,” Dean says swiftly. Standing and making his way out to find a way down, “Angel flight still leaves me twitchy.”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel says, and Dean is sure he can feel the eye roll from behind him even as the angel moves to follow him with the others. It makes him smile even in the seriousness of looking for any more ghostly attentions. Alicia’s whispered comment to her brother makes the smile a bit more fixed on his face, for all that he thinks he wasn’t meant to hear it.

“They act like an old married couple.”

Castiel and he were just good friends. They were like brothers. Why did people keep casting aspersions on their relationship? Dean ignored the way his gut always tightened at what people said about them. He had more important things to think about for now.

In the end, the completion of the hunt was just tragic. The work of a serial killer turned poltergeist is revealed in the host of bodies buried in the basement. The night shift Janitor had used the out of the way storage room as an easy place to dump what had remained of his victims into the floor. Then the fire had happened and taken him out; they’d found what had to be his body in the rubble as Castiel had cleared it. Trapping his victims with him anew as he tormented them in the veil.

They’d burnt his body.

As if summoned, they’d been surrounded by the other ghosts. They hadn’t needed to duck for cover as they’d only stood there watching the body burn. Some had even smiled at them in the seconds before they all dissipated in a brilliant light.

“They just wanted to be found,” Castiel says after they’ve left.

“It must have been awful, first you’re trapped in the place where you were buried and then your murderer shows up to hurt you more,” Alicia says, “This job sucks sometimes.”

“We helped them, though,” Max says and gives his sister a playful nudge,” They can rest now.”

“Come on, let's get out of here,” Dean says, “We can think of how to call this in so they can all get a proper burial on the way up.”

Any thoughts of calling it in are derailed as they return outside to find a stranger leaning against the Impala. All suave haircut, five o’clock shadow and long brown coat that’s hiding a suit beneath. Dean’s instincts come to life to scream at him about who this man must represent, and he cocks the shotgun again as they approach.

“Who are you and why are you leaning on my car?” Dean says, a little pleased when the man immediately stops leaning on his baby.

“You must be Dean Winchester,” The man says, extending a hand towards him for a handshake of all things. “My name is Mick Davies, I’m with the Men of Letters. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Yeah? Well I’ve heard things about you and I’m not sure I like it.” Dean says, not taking the offered hand. Mick falters at that before the hand drops away. He looks more unsettled now, which Dean is rather happy about. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Castiel looking more serious, the slight tilt of his head the only tell that he must be talking to his siblings. Dean would love to know how one of the operatives got through their watch. Alicia and Max seemed to have shifted more behind Dean, too; ever the protector.

“We’re just here to help, Dean,” Mick says, “I admit some of our people can be a little overzealous, but you know just how dangerous what we’re dealing with out there can be.”

“Overzealous?” Dean snorts, following the party line he’d discussed with Lucifer and Sam, “One of your people had kidnapped my brother and was hurting him before she disappeared. If I find her I’ve got a lot to say to her about that.”

“If she did that then she was working outside her orders,” Mick says, “I assure you we’re all on the same side.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean says, shifting a little as Castiel gives him a slight signal from his side that means angels are nearby and searching. That Castiel sees no reason to do more means that Mick must have come alone, that’s something. “Tell that to my brother and the hunters you’ve been intimidating.”

“Please, just consider my offer,” Mick says, reaching into a pocket slowly to pull out a business card. “Call me when you’ve had chance to think about it.”

With reluctance Dean takes the offered card. Looking it over. It’s as simple and pretentious as he’d expected for a Men of Letters business card. That it’s a US based number is just further proof of how set up they are over here.

“We’ll think about it.” Dean says, pocketing the card.

“That’s all I ask,” Mick says before turning away towards a car parked the other side of the damaged hospital gate.

They all stand there in silence until he’s driven off. The appearance of the Men of Letters dampening the mood far worse than finding the body of a serial killer near his victims.

“So about that hunter network your brother was wanting to make,” Max says, finally breaking the silence, “Can we join?”

“Course,” Dean says, “Sam was hoping you’d agree.”

“I have an angel following him,” Castiel adds, still watching in the direction Mick had driven off in. “I’m going to find out how someone was able to get so close.”

“I know he didn’t seem interested in you, but that doesn’t mean he won’t remember you were with us,” Dean says, looking to the Banes siblings. “I think you should come back to the Bunker with us until we know what’s going on.”

“You live with Lucifer though,” Max says, sounding unsure even as his sister hits him softly.

“He saved me, Max.”

“You think we should?” Max says, looking to his sister who nods emphatically at him, “Well, alright then. We’ll come with you, Dean. Thank you.”

…

Sam could see how relieved Gabriel was when they arrived in the bunker. While heaven had been peaceful at first the younger angels had found a series of increasingly silly reasons to arrive and overstay their welcome around the healing archangel. He and Lucifer had both watched as Gabriel’s smiles became more and more brittle as the day went on. It had easily decided them. As much as Gabriel would recover faster up there, he didn’t need nosy siblings popping in every second of the day.

“Sweet digs you have here,” Gabriel whistles as the takes in the bunker, “So much better than the motel chic you were sporting before. So, what’s there to do around here?”

“There’s always the books,” Sam begins and gets an over dramatic eyeroll from the archangel as he speaks, “Dean’s set up a room with the biggest screen he could find, a gym, shooting range. If there’s anything you do want, I’m sure we could get it for you.”

“Definitely a Winchester Wonderland,” Gabriel laughs, “I’m sure I can find something to do.”

“Those words aren’t ominous at all,” Sam says, even as he gives the recovering archangel a grin as Gabriel almost pouts at him.

“You know my brother well, Sam,” Lucifer says and as Gabriel’s betrayed expression turns on him, he actually ruffles the other angel’s hair.

“I don’t like how comfortable you are with a body now,” Gabriel grumbles as he swats at Lucifer’s hand. “Now, show me my room. I’m sure I’ll have notes.”

That the room is attached to theirs is met with the silent raising of Gabriel’s eyebrows at them. He had then immediately set his brother to work making the room and the already large bed bigger. Before moving on to demand his own TV set up and a balcony of all things that overlooked the same forest the window in the other bedroom looked over, even if you couldn’t actually go into the forest because it didn’t actually exist. That had barely got a twitch of annoyance from Lucifer, but Sam had forced himself to stifle a laugh as Lucifer drew the line at the hot tub Gabriel had promptly wanted on it. The bond rolling with frustration in only the way a younger brother could cause to an elder one.

He's just testing you, Sam says, careful to voice the quiet thought while Gabriel’s back is turned. The slight glance he gets as Gabriel narrows his eyes at him makes it all too clear how observant the archangel can be.

“Well, I hope the food is better than the customer service,” Gabriel quips, grinning as Lucifer actually growls in irritation. “I also hope you have something sweet. Being a trickster wasn’t just a job description in the end.”

“You need sugar?” Sam asks, suddenly worried for the archangel again.

“Nah, I just miss it.” Gabriel says with a wave of his hand.

They had retreated to the kitchen at that. Sam curling into Lucifer’s sure hold as he basked in the smug pleasure the bond filled with as Gabriel waxed lyrical about the piece of chocolate cheesecake he was quickly eating through on the other side of the table. He could feel the archangel above him rubbing along his lower lip in pleasure as he was often want to do. Especially when he knew something someone else didn't.

“I suppose you’d be surprised to know I made it,” Lucifer says at last as Gabriel indulged in another mouthful.

“You made it?” Gabriel pauses, gesturing at Lucifer with a spoon in a moment of shock before looking the short distance down to Sam. “Sam, if this is the effect you have on my brother keep doing it. I need more of this.”

“I’ll do my best,” Sam says, as Gabriel returns to the cake.

There’s a clatter from the entrance and the sound of voices coming closer. Sam frowns as Gabriel tenses for a moment before slowly relaxing as he sees that Lucifer and Sam aren’t concerned. He knew the archangel was covering it well, but there had to be some residual effects. He hoped Gabriel would be willing to talk about it in time.

“Well isn’t this cheerfully domestic,” Dean says as he walks in bringing their new residents in tow with them. “Alicia and Max are joining the crew after our close encounter. Alicia and Max, you’ve already met my brother and Lucifer of course. The one enjoying the cake is, Gabriel.”

“Another archangel?” Alicia says, sounding just as surprised as the look both siblings shared.

“What can I say, the cake’s good,” Gabriel says with a grin at them. Sam forces himself not to wince as both he and Lucifer flood the bond with matching levels of concern. They’d both seen how forced that grin was.

“I’m beginning to see why the stories about you Winchesters always seem so crazy,” Max says, “Well, I’ll doubt we’ll be bored here.”

Later, after everyone had gone to bed, Sam is grateful when Lucifer slides under the sheets with him. Curling himself into the Archangel’s side in silent introspection as a hand caresses along his back. The other holding a book before Lucifer’s face. Apparently he was quite content to read here while Sam slept. Now their relationship had found its footing Sam was already wondering how he had been content to sleep without him nearby.

Do you think he’s going to be okay here? Sam sighs across the bond. Watching his own hand draw indistinct patterns over Lucifer’s chest in front of him.

As well as he can be. Archangel’s recover differently to humans. So much will be dependent on his grace fully recovering. All we can do is be here for him and hope he comes to us when he needs to, Lucifer’s introspective thoughts matched by a heavy sigh of his own.

Even around other humans? You saw how uncomfortable he was, Sam says, shifting to rest his chin on Lucifer’s chest to look up at him.

The Banes siblings are alright. Even if they do need to upgrade their ideas.

Sam snorts at that, giving Lucifer an amused look that shivers through their bond. A feeling only soothed as Lucifer’s hand shifts from his back to massage into his hair. He slips back to resting his head against Lucifer, letting himself fall back into enjoying the attentions. As much as Lucifer’s comments about humans always managed to be slightly judgemental, he wasn’t wrong. Sam had plans on how to up the game of hunters, starting with the Banes. Tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Sam woke to find Lucifer unusually still beneath him. The bond seemed almost languid between them as emotions drifted back and forth in slow waves. It was a surprise that had him sitting up cross-legged to stare down at the archangel. The sleeping archangel. For a moment, he’s nothing but stunned. Yet, oddly, it makes so much sense. The archangel is at his most peaceful since before he gained the mark. What better way to rest now that Sam’s memories have shown him how?

With his head thrown back and mouth slightly open as he breathes, Lucifer could truly be mistaken for human, not that Sam will ever tell him that. Some sixth sense from the grace within him tells him it is still shockingly early in the bunker. Not even Dean, resident self-inflicted insomniac with four hours of sleep a night, is up yet. Leaving Sam in this quiet pool of peace he’s in no hurry to leave.

A peace that shifts into a tight coil of want as he continues to watch Lucifer sleep. There’s a certain power to having one of the most dangerous creatures in the universe so willingly vulnerable before him. With care, he leans forward, bracing one hand on the bed at Lucifer’s side as he stares down at him. His smile darkening before he decides to follow Lucifer’s wonderful example and shifts to bite into the archangel’s neck.

There’s nothing human about the taste of Lucifer’s skin beneath his questing tongue. Perfect cleanliness that sparkles with the leftover memory of stars beneath his flesh. Sam mouths at it, drinking in the feel of Lucifer as his own grace retaliates to mark that otherwise unblemished skin. Warring between his teeth. Unable to stop a slight groan at the thought of leaving evidence for all to see. It’s no wonder Lucifer was always doing it to him. He pauses in his loving attack to breathe in the scent of the one beneath him. It feels so much like home that he has to ground himself with a hand in Lucifer’s hair.

As he bites down again, Lucifer stirs beneath him. His body shifting to arch up into the human above as a sure hand rises to curl over Sam and pull him closer. A pleased hum matches his movements as the archangel bares his neck further for him. The bond shifts to a fierce heat between them as Lucifer finally truly wakes.

“Fuck, Sam,” Lucifer manages, “If I knew the wake-up would be so good, I’d have tried sleeping sooner.”

“Maybe I’m providing incentive,” Sam whispers, pausing to give Lucifer a grin before claiming the archangel’s lips with his own. Shifting to sit over Lucifer to kiss him more completely, already seeing the benefits of sleeping naked, as it makes his forming plan so much easier. Having Lucifer’s questing hands already on his bare skin was a delightful plus.

Sam, Lucifer’s voice sounds wrecked in his mind. The archangel already so taken down by the unexpected attentions. It makes Sam so much more breathless than the kissing had done. Breaking away from Lucifer to take a shuddering breath as he rocks against the body beneath him. His mouth opening in a gasping smile as Lucifer ruts against him in turn. A desperate press of their growing need against each other.

“I want you to use your grace to prepare me,” Sam says, reaching between them to wrap his hand about their cocks to thrust against the groaning archangel as he speaks. Watching his lover’s eyes flare red as he almost makes the archangel lose control just from the thought of it. “Then, you’re going to lie here like a good archangel and let me ride you.”

The window shatters across the room from them, and Sam throws his head back with a delighted moan as all that is truly Lucifer floods the room. It was a crushing weight that, if he’d been truly human, would have been too much, but now it’s not enough as it lights up through his veins with a burning yearning. Ever greedy for more of the angel beneath him. Wanting all that he can give him. As such, he's expecting a dramatic click or the sudden feeling of a yawning emptiness within him. Instead, a single finger slips between his cheeks to tease against his rim.

“Look at me, Sam,” Lucifer says, and Sam can do nothing else but look down into that red-filled gaze. Letting Lucifer see every twitch and shudder as that lube-covered finger presses inside him. A slow thrust that leaves him shaking as his need is teasingly filled and yet leaves him yearning for more. There’s not even a smirk from the angel as he drinks in everything from Sam. Leaving Sam feeling more on display than he ever has in his life.

His cock aches hard and leaking before them both, and he has to reach for it; he needs to feel something to relieve the sudden pressure. His hand is firmly captured and pulled away, and he doesn’t dare reach with the other one as the archangel’s gaze turns more fierce. The air heated about them by the power of that stare as Lucifer looks him over with a purpose Sam can feel creep across his skin. Tightening in anticipation about that finger in him that only has Lucifer force it further, exploring him deeper. Sam’s hips jerk, and he rocks against it; riding that finger in a wanton, ghostly display of what he really wants.

“This is hardly being good,” Sam gasps, trying to regain some control despite how much he yearns to fall under the archangel’s power. It would be so easy.

“When have I ever been that, Sam?” Lucifer purrs, and he spreads Sam open as he twists another finger into his depths. Grinning up at Sam as he forces a whine out of Sam’s throat with the move. Sam’s hand clasps into Lucifer’s, anchoring himself with it as he rocks in time with those fingers. Twitching down to his toes every time they spread within him. He can feel himself open more with every pass, far too fast for normal, as if the tingle of Lucifer’s grace within him wasn’t proof enough of what the archangel is doing.

“You are to me,” Sam whispers, every word a breathless confession that punctuates the movement of those questing fingers. His reward for it is the sudden absence within him, and he groans out through gritted teeth in frustration. It’s one he knows how to fix, though.

In one swift motion, he shifts back, reaching blindly with his free hand to line himself up and spear himself open on Lucifer’s cock right to the base. It fills him perfectly, leaving him sat over the archangel as they groan out their joint pleasure across the bond. The closest to complete they can get without becoming truly one. The hard weight of him within him a reassuring weight inside Sam as he sits there. Lucifer’s hands so tight on his hips that he knows they’ll bruise, the clearest sign the archangel needs him too written onto his skin. It’s somehow even better than the first time.

“Fuck Sam,” Lucifer groans out, and Sam can feel the growing tension in him. Despite his teasing, the archangel is trying not to move. The red glow of his eyes lost as he throws back his head with a low moan of his own. Only arching more beneath him as Sam gives one testing roll of his hips. It’s a torment to them both as it presses against his prostate and makes him see stars.

“That’s the idea,” Sam manages. Making Lucifer give one burst of startled laughter that cuts off with a shout as Sam raises off him to impale himself back down. The long slide of Lucifer within him to drag against his walls isn’t enough, and Sam cannot stop. Flinging his head back as he drives himself onwards. Seeking his own pleasure as he shifts against Lucifer beneath him. Lost in the sea of feeling within him and the gaze of the impossible creature that snaps back to watch him with a fierce intensity that sends his blood singing. He’d never thought himself an exhibitionist, but under Lucifer’s eye, he is. Revelling in the attention and only wanting more.

Spearing himself on his cock so deeply it's as if he can feel it in his throat as he chokes himself off with need so strong he can’t breathe for it. His own cock ached with sympathy for it, bouncing between them hard and neglected. But he can’t think of it, only the ever-present need to keep moving. His hips rutting against Lucifer's with a yearning that aches more within him than the rim stretched tight around the length thrusting up within him. Uncaring of the burning in his legs as he moved. An important beat beneath the need that only deepens the pleasure that crashes between them.

He nearly falls as Lucifer’s control snaps. His body writhing beneath him like a sudden earthquake. Only Lucifer’s hold on his hips keeps him in place as the archangel bucks hard into him. Sam’s eyes flew open to stare down at the archangel, only to shudder at the worshipful look in those power-filled eyes. The edge drops out beneath him. Curling him over the archangel, hands tight against the angel’s chest, as his cock twitches out his release over the perfect skin beneath him. Shouting out his relief even as Lucifer keeps driving into his tightened channel, drawing out every beat of his orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” Sam gasps as Lucifer begins to slow as the surge of emotions begins to ebb within him. Urging him on to his own end. Sam’s back hits the bed before he can draw another breath. Caught in Lucifer’s eyes as he drives into his limp, oversensitive form. Clutching at what he can of the archangel as he seeks his end inside Sam. It’s barely a minute, but it feels like an eternity in overwhelming pleasure that ends with the rush of wet heat within him. Their bond echoed with it so strongly that Sam might as well have cum again himself. Lucifer’s forehead resting against his own as they bask in the silence of the after.

Only reluctantly, they rise to face the day. Slipping away to shower together. Using far too much of the available hot water as they neglected washing to trade now tender kisses and distracting touches. Both finding it was hard to clean your own hair or another’s when your showering partner had hands that refused not to wander.

“So why were you sleeping?” Sam thinks to ask as he shoves on some of the clothes that had already found their way into their joint rooms. His own room is barely thought of these days. A place of privacy he doesn’t need to retreat to anymore.

“You looked so peaceful doing so, and I remembered it fondly from your memories,” Lucifer says, shrugging on his own jeans. It always touched Sam that he wanted to do such simple things without Grace, “I’m not sure what I managed was quite human sleep, more like a very deep meditation.”

“Yes, I often breathe like that when I’m ‘meditating’ too,” Sam laughs, giving Lucifer an unrepentant grin as the angel mock glares at him. Any heat to them was always neutered by the ever-present adoration of him in the bond. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed your meditation.”

Lucifer is a muttering, annoyed presence behind him as Sam makes his way to fulfil his ever-present need for a morning coffee. As always, Lucifer curls about him from behind as he makes it. It’s far from a help, but he’d not want it any other way. Sam presses the side of his head into Lucifer’s as he waits, eyes drifting to half-mast as he basks in the singing of the bond between them.

“How are you more obnoxious now?” Dean gripes, looking up from his morning cooking. “I mean, I’m happy for you, but God!”

They look at Dean askance, but it doesn’t last as the elder Winchester gains an unlikely ally.

“I think even I’m in danger of getting diabetes from watching it,” Gabriel huffs as he shuffles in. Apparently, another member of the family that wouldn’t truly function on Earth without coffee. A liquid addiction for angels and humans alike.

“People who complain don’t get to have my coffee,” Sam says, resting his head back against Lucifer’s. Feeling the archangel laugh behind him.

“Like you could stop me,” Dean and Gabriel say at the same time, and the slight tension in the room breaks into shared good humour.

…

Breakfast done, the archangels had been left alone. Both taking over the library as the Winchesters had taken the Banes out to the nearby tattoo shop. Protection from demons was always going to be first on the list with any training in the bunker. Gabriel’s feet were up on the table as he leaned back in the chair, surprised that Lucifer chose to sit on the table close to him and not further away. The return to their past closeness is still surprising in the best way.

“So, now we’re away from the kids, going to tell me what your plans are for heaven?” Gabriel says. It’s the nicest question on his mind and one of the few he’s most eager for the answer to. In reply, all Lucifer does is smirk at him and summon a shining image before them. It’s as glorious as it is insane. A triumph of imagination if they have enough power available to make it work. For a place as old as heaven, it looks right out of science fiction. It’s the city resplendent in the centre that most intrigues him, though. “You really want angels and humans to mingle that much, huh?”

“Sam wouldn’t be Sam if I separated him from his family,” Lucifer says idly, “Besides, if they’re good enough to be accepted into heaven, they deserve to be happy. I just didn’t want the opposite of Michael’s stupid box rooms to be a paltry echo of Earth. Why should heaven have to be more of the same?”

“You just didn’t want to copy dad,” Gabriel says with a slight laugh, picking over the model as he tries to piece together how it would function. Not quite comfortable thinking about his father yet. He’s not ready to think about what led to his rescue. There’s time.

“Perhaps,” Lucifer concedes, flicking his finger to send the habitat rings moving. “I’d hoped to make it as a surprise for Sam, but I think without him there won’t be enough power to build it. Without the Men of Letters around, we’d have more angels to help as well.”

“Never let it be said you don’t aim big,” Gabriel says, “Now, why does everyone keep going on about the world’s biggest nerds, the Men of Letters?”

Gabriel’s look of disbelief only grows as Lucifer describes what they’ve found out and what they’d done and are doing. He’d met the Men of Letters before, of course, he had. Anything with power would end up coming under the notice of the bookworms of the Supernatural at some point. They’d been fun company, even if he could never shake them out of their staid behaviour. It seemed something had.

“You mean to tell me that Nerds are us have gone evil?” Gabriel says, “Larry would never have hurt an innocent.”

“Larry?”

“He tracked me down after I’d taught a man that hurting his kids wasn’t a way to deal with the trauma of war in the late forties,” Gabriel says, waving his hands idly in the air as he talks. The urge to snap up sweets as he talked was unreal. “We talked, and he called me in for help a couple of times. I mean, the dude cried when they couldn’t save someone once. I mean, this guy was a nerd; he was always trying to find a way to help people and not kill them. This is the organisation that wanted to cure demons so they didn’t have to kill them!”

“They succeeded. Then Hell sent Abaddon after them. The American Men of Letters died as an organisation then.”

“Well, shit,” Gabriel sighs, looking about at the library, “I missed that. It would explain the vintage décor.” He looks back up at his brother with only a semi-playful frown, “Can you stop turning the world upside down for me for a bit?”

“No promises,” Lucifer says, managing his usual smirk as he thinks over what Gabriel has told him. Could the Men of Letters have changed so quickly from one incident? He didn’t know, but it bore investigating. It did sound like some of them may have made it to heaven; perhaps it was time to check the lists for them now that Gabriel had some names.

…

As Lucifer and Sam settled into their daily sparring, the humans in the room quickly realised just why Sam had been resistant to spar with anyone when Alicia and Max had been showing off their abilities. Dean thought Lucifer had riled Sam up into it while they were here on purpose. The archangel seemed determined to make sure that Sam wouldn’t hide his powers as they grew, and watching the fight, it was clear they were growing.

“How is he doing that?” Alicia asks, her voice distant as Sam slides at an impossible angle and speed to avoid a blow that snapped forward from Lucifer so hard that if it had connected, he’d have been knocked out.

“Apparently, when you help out God, you get gifts,” Dean says, attempting for jokey, but the looks he gets from the Banes siblings are just those of shock. Yes, working with God, not a usual activity.

“Yes, I know. That’s the Winchesters for you. They talk about Earth-Shattering things as if it’s just Tuesday,” Gabriel says from the top of the machine he’d climbed onto. His legs were swinging while he leaned back, watching the fight with a more serious eye than his words implied.

“It is Tuesday,” Castiel says, his voice so deadpan, Gabriel looks his way, mouth opening to mock his younger brother before he sees the slight glint in the angel’s eye.

“Good one, Cassie! You’re learning!” Gabriel beams at him briefly, getting an answering smile in return before the fight recaptures his attention. Obviously, watching Sam more than his brother. Dean wonders if that should worry him, but then Gabriel calls out, “Move your feet, Sam!”

Sam barely has chance to react before Lucifer’s leg sweeps out, trying to take him to the ground. Gabriel had given him just enough of an edge to survive through it. Twisting around to try and use Lucifer’s own momentum against him. It works. From the sidelines, Dean gives a whoop as his brother brings the archangel crashing down to the mat.

“Stop interfering!” Lucifer growls at Gabriel, who only waves back at his brother with a slight laugh.

“I rather like Gabriel’s help,” Sam says, the bond filled with his amusement before he finally relents and lets Lucifer up. The look he gets makes him all too aware he’s probably about to be suplexed to the ground again. He barely has time to swallow before the fight is off again. This time, he has no chance to listen to their audience. He lasts longer than he expected, and Lucifer’s satisfaction as they go down is hard to ignore.

“Man, I want popcorn for this.” Gabriel sighs, forcing himself to stop as he goes to snap some into being.

“I can make some,” Dean says, heading for the door. He’s all for joining in on the brother tormenting Gabriel seems intent on doing. He’s been wanting to see what Sam can do without it seeming like he was interrogating him. This was perfect.

“Weren’t we supposed to be training?” Max says, sounding hesitant.

“You are!” Gabriel laughs, “You’re going to learn what an angel can do without even trying today. That and how stubborn a Sam Winchester can be.”

“Still want my brother’s help?” Lucifer smirks down at Sam.

“Jury’s out.”

…

Mick was always an ordered and methodical man. It was one of the reasons he’d risen so high in the Men of Letters. His eye for detail had gotten him through many a situation that would have led to a lesser man's death. He depended on it, and it was telling him now that much of what they had on the Winchesters and what was happening here wasn’t accurate. That something was deeply wrong.

Dean had seemed so defensive when they met. Mick was perfectly prepared to take his words at face value, and considering it was already clear they were living in the old Men of Letters bunker, it would explain some of the caution, but Mick was uncertain. That and whatever he thought had happened to his brother. Toni was only meant to talk to the Winchesters, and as far as her last transmission, that was what she had been preparing to do with Sam. Dean had implied that Toni had gone far off the reservation instead, and that wouldn’t surprise Mick either; he’d been warning of it for months now.

She wasn’t anywhere to ask about it, and he doubted the Winchesters were going to be open to explaining. He also wasn’t going to tell his bosses that he explicitly believed they had something to do with that. At least, not until he had some concrete evidence. He knew what the response was going to be if that was the case, and he wanted to be certain before he called for the deaths of two very special hunters. Or had more information on two hunters that were the most dangerous threat of all. Either way, he needed more information.

The elders back in Britain hadn’t believed half the stories they had heard, attributing much to the gossip networks hunters were known for. Since arriving in the US, Mick was beginning to have his doubts. The hunters they had talked to all had far too consistent a story. At least they had until they all refused to talk to him anymore. The most he got was ‘The Winchesters said we weren’t to trust you’. It was maddening; the hunters in America weren’t supposed to be organised. Yet it seemed they’d all chosen the side of the brothers.

It lent far too much credence in Mick’s mind that all the insane stories were true.

So, he’d had to run through the issue as if the Winchesters would be their enemy. That meant he’d had to put in an equipment order for things that even the Elders had queried. If angels were going to be involved, however, then the Men of Letters would need more defences than they had. You couldn’t exorcise an angel, but there were other methods. Especially if the truly wildest rumours were true. It was terrifying to think they just might be.

He’d also had to go against his nature and had put the call out to find a witch. With what they were up against, it was definitely a better the devil you know situation. Even if the thought of working with someone tainted with such power made his skin crawl. Or perhaps it was just the knowing smile she was giving him from across the table. The handcuffs and restraints certainly didn’t seem enough.

“Well, dearie. If you wanted to talk to me, you could have just asked,” Rowena says, still managing to look so chiding even with anti-magic chains keeping her in the chair.

“Your history made it clear you’d be far from cooperative. We don’t tend to bargain with witches,” Mick says, leaning back in his chair as he watches the indignant look pass over her face.

“Sounds like there’s always room for an exception,” she says, “I’m sure we can find a way forward, don’t you think?”

“That depends. What do you know about Lucifer?” Mick asks, knowing he’d struck gold by the slightest tensing of her expression before she settles again.

“Everyone knows about him unless you’re living under a rock. People do tend to like the bad boy in a story, don’t they?” Rowena says, her tone overly friendly. Ah, yes, he has her.

“Yes, but I think you know more about him. Not just because you’re a witch, but far more personally. Demons can be pretty talkative sometimes,” Mick says, and wasn’t that another oddity. When they’d arrived, demons had been everywhere, and getting gossip from them had been so easy. Now they’d all seemingly disappeared, and he doubted it was because of the Men of Letters.

“Tch, I wouldn’t go trusting the words of a demon dearie, they tend to tell you what you want to hear,” Rowena tuts at him. Outwardly scornful, but there’s just the slightest edge to her words.

“I didn’t want to hear that he was out of the cage. Yet I heard that. Also heard you were involved somehow,” Mick says, and he watches as her walls go up further. He lets her stew on that, the witch refusing to say anything as she stares back with pursed lips, “I had wondered if you knew of a way to get him back in if he is out?”

The silence stretches out, and he lets her think about it. The longer it goes on, the more he has to realise with a sinking heart that even if she denies it, they definitely have an archangel problem. An archangel already known for terrorising the world, and somehow inexplicably now with the Winchesters, if the stories were to be believed. Was he threatening them in some way? Is that why Dean looked so concerned?

“He’s still around then,” Rowena says, sinking a little in the chair and no longer looking quite so proud. Whatever she’s thought of has upset her, “You want to put him back in the cage? So do I. I even have a way to do it. If you can help with a few things.”

“Really?” Mick asks, hopeful but as always entirely suspicious when it comes to witches. Especially someone with Rowena’s reputation.

“If you’d done your research properly, dear, you’d know he killed me. I’m not particularly happy about that now the world isn’t coming down around our ears,” Rowena says, “And how do you think we’ll do it? I’m a witch, I know a spell.”