Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kore screamed. She screamed and screamed with all her might, her new voice rattling the bars around her and shaking the foundations of Hell. Literally. 

Kore was in Hell, and she was Lucifer. 

Kore had been a regular person when she woke up as Satan. A teacher job, no kids or Significant other to speak of. Two cats and a ferret. Now she was trapped in Hell, embodying the Great Deceiver and she was kind of freaking out about it. She did not know how this came to be or if it was even real to begin with. But nothing and nobody was around to ask, and she was trapped in a cage with no way out. 

 She was alone for a long time. A very long time. A small part of her was ok with it: it gave her time to come to terms with things (not really) and how to move about in her new, monstrous form. 

Kore wasn't some broad with horns and a forked tail, nah, she was now a biblically accurate angel the size of FUCKING Jupiter. She had 6 wings, a dozen tails and thousands of eyes. Not to mention all of the other appendages, like the numerous heads and arms. And there was a mouth on her torso! One that spoke only in tongues that Kore, somehow, miraculously, understood. She had five heads: one humanoid that sat to the front, a Peacock on her right, a Snake on her left, a Lion on top and an Oxen to the back. Based on who she was currently body snatching, she could guess the meanings… 

It was all very alarming, and very hard to control. She bumbled around her new prison like a newborn colt, slamming into the bars when she tripped over her new appendages.

Flying was a no, because the bars of her cage, while spacious enough to let her wander a bit, were nowhere large enough to stretch her wings out. They were pretty badass wings, though. Impossibly large in span and width; they were a brilliant white that seemed to reflect every color imaginable. However, they had been damaged. Burnt, charred, broken, snapped or just dirty in some places, they had obviously seen better days. And they hurt . 

SHE hurt. 

She noticed the pain shortly after finishing her initial freak out. The burning, scalding feeling along her new body and appendages. It seeps down into her very bones, aching in a way that took her breath out of her lungs and left her catatonic for a long while. It was only sheer force of will that got her back up and moving. But the pain remained and she found no way to end it. 

So she compartmentalized, a very handy human trait. She was still very weak after it, and found it hard to keep it together when the pain would flare up. Kore sometimes found herself clawing at the ground or bars of her cage, desperate for relief of any kind. The violet actions helped, and she didn’t like it. She tried holding out longer and longer with every flare-up, gritting the teeth of her many mouths and clenching her many many eyes up in pain until she gave in and began to thrash and screech against the bars. She was making progress but had yet to get through an entire flare without a breakdown. But she was getting better and that is what mattered. 

It had been a long time. Humans were not meant for isolation and Kore was feeling it. She was getting the hang of her new body and the sensations that came with it (having a 360 spherical view of literally everything around her was wack ). It was a distraction for a while, but now she was feeling it. The new things ran out, and with nothing but the screams of tortured  souls to keep her company, the boredom was setting in fast. 

She began to reflect on her time here, on herself and her surroundings. Kore began to, tried to, meditate. She had never done so in her life but figured, this was as good as time as any. It helped, after she got the hang of it, and her new mind was able to fall into a sense of timelessness that made the time pass relatively unnoticed. 

Kore began to meditate more and more in order to control not only her new self, but the pain as well. She’d sit in the corner and delve into her head, her newfound mind (abilities? species?) had the ability to remember things with photographic clarity. She found all her old human memories (sans the one that led her to her new predicament) with a sharp clarity that rivaled the highest definition of movie. She remembered the smell of the candles burning on her 3rd birthday, her first cat’s eye color, the feel of the pages under her fingers of the books she read in college. It was both amazing and incredibly sad. She found it hard not to lose herself in the memories, isolation in the cage rattling her mental stability like a ping pong ball in an empty container. She tried not to dwell on them. 

Her mind opened further to her, and Kore found herself standing in it. A mindscape, like in stories she had read. Hers was a forest: lush and green, the trees young and strong. She walked through it, her body similar to the one she had in her previous life, but she was certain she didn’t have this many arms before. She touched each tree as she walked through, each containing a memory of hers. The further she walked, the older and larger the trees became. 

She reached out to one, the memory was of her birth. It was graphic and gory, but the emotions attached to it flickered over her mind without truly latching. It was probably due to how distracted she was. 

Because this was her earliest memory… but there were a lot more trees. It was a very stark difference. The forest was almost split in two from where she stood in the bright and airy part, the grass green and vibrant. One more step and the grass was dead, trees larger and older, their trunks darker in color and some looking rather ragged and barren of leaves. It frightened her. 

Kore steeled herself and took a step forward to touch the first tree. 

Kore liked to think of herself as strong and steadfast, but watching the memories of the Morningstar… tested that to and past her limits. 

The first memory was of Them, clutching at the bars of the cage she now was trapped in, begging for reprieve of Their torment. She could feel Their disparity and pain, the hollow feeling inside Their body and the consuming rage that had been doused by the waters of Their grief. It was heart wrenching and Kore could already feel the tears leaking out. 

Kore kept going, feeling the need to see everything of the life of the angel she’d taken over. But she waited, waited and walked until she reached the largest, oldest tree there was, one that shimmered like no other tree she had ever seen before. If she was about to do what she thought she was, she needed to see it from the Beginning. 

The memories were like a box that she had unlocked; each tree she touched, each memory she saw, stayed with her like her human memories did. 

The Beginning was beautiful. 

Her human side couldn’t comprehend it or describe it, and her angel side had nothing to go off. She could only say it was Light and Him and… everything at once but there had been nothing at the time. The love she felt for Him was indescribable and filled her to the brim, she was drowning in it. They were made of water, colder than ice, They were relief, beauty and glory to Him, They were named SeverityUntoHim  

She kept touching trees with wild abandon, chasing that overwhelming love and emotion, tears streaming down her face.

There was Him and Her and companion-defender- WhoIsLikeHim . WhoIsLikeHim was large too, larger than SeverityUntoHim and warm where They were cold. Born of fire, He was passion, creation and praise to Him. He folded into Them like a second half and they were One. 

More came, WhoHasHealed and HeIsOfStrength. Both strong and beautiful ( but not as beautiful as Them ). WhoHasHealed was born of the ground that would seed Creation; She was serenity, patience and faithfulness to Him. HeIsOfStrength was born of the wind, and He was of freedom, laughter and joy to Him. The two fit together, much like WhoIsLikeHim did with Them. 

The four of them, with Him, with Her. An eternity of memories and love. 

More of them were made, but none the same as the First Born. Smaller, less grand but still beautiful ( but none as beautiful as Them ). 

She was angered, She was locked away and SeverityOfHim was given the lock to Her cage. It hurt , it burned and ached but They held it just the same. 

More trees, more memories. Creation continued, more angels made and He looked at SeverityOfHim more than others, watched Them more than others, interacted with Them more than others. It was noted by the other three but They did not care. They loved their Father with a fire that burned all others. Nothing compared. 

Heaven was made and the first seeds of Creation formed the Universe. Stars were spun into being, galaxies formed and were unmade. Time was created and the passage was marked in the death of Stars. Worlds were made, Life was founded, all beautiful and grand ( but none as much as Them ). Planets formed and were destroyed, lived and died and more was made. SeverityOfHim burned from the inside out. 

Then Earth, as it would come to be called, was made. Humans were made. SeverityOfHim would not bow.

They burned on the outside now. 

The memories of The War and Fall were painful, horrible, and Kore couldn’t stand them. But she continued to watch and absorb it, she owned that much to the Fallen. 

The Fall started long before the humans. It began the moment the Mark was placed on Their arm. 

SeverityOfHim felt the sickness long before the humans came, but said nothing. They were not weak; They were perfect, made special by Father and He did not make mistakes. They were meant for this, could carry this, and They would. The others noticed the change and said nothing. Even as fights broke out, screams and cries ringing across the Host, nothing was said. 

Was it even noticed?

The acid ate Them from the inside out, the calls of Her louder and louder with every passing moment. They were all Father needed. Why anyone else? Why make more? They were there, They were perfect, why continue? 

Then the humans were made: small, weak, and flawed beyond anything else Father had made. Her words whispered in Their ears, the acid racing through Them until it reached their core and Their heart blackened. They were told to bow, to love more than Him. And SeverityOfHim refused. 

The War was long and horrible, the battles They waged and blood They shed coated them like a second skin. They attempted to coax the others to Their side but all three refused and They felt nothing but rage and abandonment. Their sword tasted the blood of Their kin and with every kill the acid pain lessened for a moment. Heaven and Earth shook with the force of Their rage and bloodthirst.

Many of the lesser angels came to Their call; of 3,333,333,333 angels there had been made, 1,111,111,111 came to Them. Many died, but They did not care. What was the cost of their lives compared to Their devotion? They would prove it to Him, the flaw of these humans, the abominations He had made. They were perfect. They were all He needed. 

They came to the Garden and tempted the first human. They were beauty, They were glory, and she came willingly. The acid roared through them as They twisted the soul in Their grasp, molding it and conforming it into a mockery of what it once was. Lilith was born and SeverityOfHim laughed at the image she made. So similar to Her in vision, how poetic it was. 

They presented Their gift to Him. 

It was the first time They truly saw Him angry at Them. 

It was terrifying.. It was horrible… It was terrific .

The taste of His anger stated a deep pain in Them and acid turned under Their skin. SeverityOfHim, Samael, felt the first strings of conflict within Themself at that moment. They didn’t want Their Father to be angry at Them, but why did it feel so good ? 

They went back to the Garden, and tempted the humans to eat from the forbidden tree. They did and were cast from the Garden, cursed with knowledge. The rage They felt from Him was less this time, more bitter but just as sweet. The feelings churned in Their heart, the love and anger They felt waring with the acid that burned everything in its path. They looked to the Mark that They had dutifully held for an eternity, seeing the infection seeping into Them from it, hearing Her voice in Their ear like a phantom presence. 

They felt fear at that moment, Their actions thrown in sharp relief. They slipped away, finding a human with a darkened soul to take on this burden. Cain was perfect, his soul tinged with greed and envy. It didn’t take much for him to accept the Mark. The transfer hurt, worse than anything they had felt yet. Black that burned and dug rivets in its path oozed out of Them, scaring Their grace in a spiderweb pattern of lesions. They felt Her presence leave Them, finally. 

They felt ill, and while Her presence was gone Her influence still lingered. The acid spat up Their body and choked them. They knew how to relieve it, how to quench the acid’s thirst. But They wanted to be free . 

So they went to Their defender-protector-kin , WhoIsLikeHim, and asked for help. They were given nothing but a look of disgust and deep sadness, and WhoIsLikeHim declared Them Lucifer: The Deceiver, The Temptor, The Dragon. He had His orders from Father and would enact them, to cast Lucifer out. 

The battle shook the foundations of the Universe, grace against grace of the most powerful beings He ever created. They were almost evenly matched, but WhoIsLikHim, Mikhael, was stronger. 

Lucifer was cast from the Heavens, into Hell, and into the cage that now contained Them. The feelings of pain, betrayal and sorrow were all consuming. The acid burn choked Their throat as They screamed from behind bars. 

Why not help? Why make Them this way? Were They not perfect? Why could They not be perfect? Why forsake Them? Why? 

They were cut off, the choirs of Their kin no longer ringing in the back of Their mind and the feeling of Heaven, of Father, was gone. 

They were alone. 

They were Forsaken. 

They would get revenge . 

Kore gasped as she let go of the tree, falling to her knees. She was overwhelmed by it all, the memories so fresh in her mind that they were inseparable from her own. Were they not her own? Did Lucifer not plead for reprieve? Was that not her now? She could not tell, but the lines between the two blurred and Kore had difficulty separating herself from Lucifer. She was afraid she’d lose herself even more if she continued. 

With hesitation, she continued to the next tree, her many limbs moving with inhuman grace. 

The memories of the cage were all very similar. Each one visually the same, with no new input other than the thoughts and feelings of Lucifer. That alone was more than enough. 

The rage festered, deep and ugly for eons. Betrayal turned to bitterness and despair and Lucifer often thought of the other three. They felt nothing but sadness for the younger two, Jibril and Rafa'el; they knew their gentle natures would be scorned by the War, their hearts bleeding with every death in the Host. They were sad to have been a part of their suffering, but it had been another casualty of the War. 

Their feelings toward Mikhael were complicated. The pain They felt when they were cast down was greater than any other They had felt. More than Her Mark or the anger of Father. Mikhael had been Their kin, Their defender and protector. The sharp sting of betrayal cut deep within Their grace and Lucifer often despaired over it. They had felt justified in the War, had thought Mikhael would see Their side of things, would understand why They would not bow. They could see it in His eyes, the displeasure of humanity, but still He obeyed. Could He not see how flawed humans were? How could they serve such creatures as imperfect as them? 

They wanted to rip and tear into everyone who betrayed Them, to the fools who forsaken Them and bowed to inferior beasts. So They plotted and planned for the day They would be free. 

Kore removed her- Their? hand from the last tree, her their mind swimming. She they was confused and couldn’t think straight past the waterfall of memories and feelings that drounded her themm m - 

Kore stumbled forward, her their many feet and arms touching the vivid green grass. Trembling hands moved over the young trees, eyes closing as memories of a human life, a beautiful life, washed over her turbulent mind. 

The sight of flowers. The sun shining through the trees at a family picnic. The flutter of fabric around her knees. The warmth of a good coat in winter. The taste of her favorite foods. The love of a blank canvas and fresh paints. 

Kore breathed in deeply, steadying herself against the last tree of her memories, feeling the content fullness of her life and her experiences. She hadn’t lived long, but she had lived to the fullest she could. And that was enough.

She now knew it had been enough for Him. 

She sat at the base of the last tree and stared through the forest, towards the twisted trees and dead grass. She consolidated everything she had experienced and witnessed. 

The memories fluttering through her mind were her own. It didn’t matter who she had been last before this, angel or human. 

She was Kore. She was Lucifer.  

And that was ok. 

Chapter Text

CH 2 Isaiah 42: 7

Noone visited her where she was, or no one was able to at least. Which was shit. She could hear things from time to time, conversations among demons or damned souls, odd snippets of other things she couldn’t put names to.  

She missed the sun, and the earth and trees. She missed the breeze and fresh air, but was stuck with this pissy rotten-egg sulfur stench. She missed the music and art, movies and books and everything that brought her joy in life. 

Kore needed a distraction, so she began to sing, softly at first, getting used to her voice once again. There was no strain or crack as she hit notes she never could before; high or low it didn’t matter. And she had multiple mouths, which meant multiple notes. It was hard to split her attention between all of them, and she had eight in total. One of each of her five heads, one on her torso and one on each shoulder. It was a good distraction, and, with a few years of quiet practice within her cell, her voice began to ring out from the cage.

Most of the time she sang softly, sadly. Crooning out into the Universe her bitterness and loneliness. Other times, she’d chorus old songs that had been sung before the stars had been made, or sweet lullabies that she’d hear Jabril -Gabriel- sing to the young angels. 

 Unknowingly, her voice echoed far past her little corner, ringing along the barren stone and through the 9 levels of Hell. Demons, souls and other Hell creatures would pause at the sound, confused to what they were hearing. Some trickled downward, lower and lower into Hell, searching for the out of place sound. It was only when they reached the lowest point, where the air went from blazing hot to an icy chill, did they stop. A deep chasm that stretched down into an infinite void laid at the bottom of Hell. The music echoed up from the darkness, demons gathered on the edge, peering down into the abyss. 

“What is it?” a small, toad-looking demon crooked, its black eyes straining to see through the unnatural darkness. The group muttered between themselves, wondering if an angel had infiltrated Hell, or if the abyss was actually an entrance into Heaven. 

“Only one way to find out,” hummed a bird-like demon. A foot lashed out, kicking the smaller toad demon down into the pit with a loud shriek. The group gathered on the edge cackled as they watched the small one fall into the darkness. 

That was… until the music cut out.  

Ribbagoth was a lesser demon, one born of greed. He was a small one, feeding off of lesser greeds and temptations. He knew his place in the hierarchy of Hell and made sure not to step out of place, instead he stuck to the shadows, gobbling down the sins of souls that came through Mammon’s circle. He kept to himself and that was why he survived as long as he did. 

When the voice (voices?) began to sing throughout Hell, Ribbagoth was scared. He had never heard singing like that before, and the stories he heard of Angels sent a shiver of fear through his tiny toad body. It didn’t stop him from going to find it, though. 

Honestly, Ribbagoth thought as he soared into the blackness of the chasm, he should have known something bad would happen as soon as he left his hovel. He fell for a long time, his screeches overshadowed by the singing. He hit something hard and started to slide. 

Quickly thinking, Ribbagoth shot his long, slimy tongue out and latched onto whatever it was he had hit. He dangled from his tongue like a fruit from a tree for a moment, taking in the shock of his sudden landing. He was able to use his own tongue as a rope to climb back up.  Sitting on the large landing that he had impacted, he looked around. 

It was dark, very dark, with the entrance to the pit invisible above him. But Ribbagoth was a nocturnal demon and his vision was quite good compared to others. Shaking his back legs a bit, the frog demon activated a lesser known trait of his: bioluminescence. Zig -zag stripes lit up along his legs, back and head, casting a low light that was practically blinding in this environment. 

First thing he noticed was the chains, the ones he was standing on. The links were impossibly large, each individual link spanning hundreds of feet. They were covered in grime and dirt, but the spaces he had disturbed showed a silvery-white metal that shimmered even in the dim light. Every inch of it was etched deeply with runes and sigils. He started walking forward, where the large chain slowly sloped downwards, curiosity winning over his normal timidness. 

It was a long time before he reached something new and what he found sent chills through his body. 

The chains ended in bars, large bars that he could not see the ends of high or low. He could not see where the cage ended side to side either, the numerous bars fading off into the blackness of the chasm. Ribbagoth let out an involuntary ribbit, something that only happened when he was truly nervous. 

A glowing ring appeared suddenly and startlingly; it was blood red in color and hundreds of times his size. The brilliance of the red light made him squint at the suddenness of it, a hand coming over his face. The moment caused the ring to expand, the dark center part narrowing to a pin-point and focusing on… him?

It was an eye . 

Ribbagoth would have shit and pissed himself if he had been capable. 

He did scream however, and it came out in an embarrassing hissy squeal that he’d despair over later. He could not escape back up the chain. Large talons reached through the bars and blocked the other side of the chain before scraping forward, forcing him closer and closer to the large eye that bore through his being like a lance. The serrated ends poked his flabby back, pushing him in until he hit the edge of the chain and fell through the bars. 

He landed on something large and cold, his bioluminescence had cut out when he had been started by the eye and he could not muster up the courage to turn it back on. Ribbagoth’s tiny, goopy hands covered his head in fear as hundreds of eyes lit up around him on all sides, each one looking right at him. A loud ringing started, both low and high in pitch, shaking him down to his core and causing him to screech once more in terror. 

Kore was finding it very difficult to talk to the tiny frog cradled in her hand. It's not like she had much practice speaking with demons after all, being stuck down here without contact didn’t have many perks. The tiny frog thing trembled in her hand as she tried to speak again, lowering her voice to a quiet whisper. It only seemed to frighten it more and she was getting rather pissed off. 

Growling to herself, Kore sat down from where she had been standing. 

The frog demon had appeared suddenly while she had been singing, hitting one of the chains that held her cage up and startling her. The thought of having someone here, someone to interact with, filled her with a manic excitement that bordered on feral. She had drug the tiny thing in from where it wandered, and dropped it into one of her many hands. It was so small and cute in a gross way. Demons were nasty creatures twisted by time and sin, but this one looked like just a toad, and she liked toads. It even squealed like one, which was cute. 

Kore contemplated how to speak to the creature for a long moment. It was obviously scared shitless, and she needed to calm it down before she could have any decent conversation with it. So she just sat and waited for it to chill the fuck out so should could get a word in. 

It worked, after a great while, and the squealing turned into deep, panicky huffs that slowly tapered off into regular breathing. Two beady black eyes peeked out from behind slimy hands, looking up at one of her eyes with undisguised fear. 

“You done?” she asked, causing the frog demon to squeak again. Kore rolled her many many eyes, exasperated. Reaching up with one of her other hands, she illuminated the cage so the toad could see better. 

Apparently, not a great idea since the toad started to squeal again. She encapsulated it with two hands, another coming up to pinch at the bridge of her nose in a very human gesture. 

“Will you shut up!” she grouched to the squealing toad as she re-opened her hands. The toad went silent, but continued to shiver, looking up at her in fear. She pulled some of her smaller arms forward and gave the toad a gentle pat on the head with one enormous finger. It kind of squished around, like it was full of slime without any bones to speak of. It was an odd texture and reminded her of a stress ball. Pulling her finger back, the demon looked up at her in confusion, its amphibian eyes scrunching up. 

“What, what is?” it croaked, the language different than any she had heard before. But she understood it, and a knowledge settled in her head that told her she’d understand any language ever spoken, written, or signed. Which was cool as fuck. 

“What is what?” she spoke in it’s language, causing it to let out a startled croak. 

“What is, what is, big monster one?” it shifted in place, its goopy feet creating smacking noises as it moved its feet. “Ribbagoth not know what is?” 

“What am I? I am the Forsaken One, the Dragon, the Deceiver, the Temptor. I am the Father of Lies, of you and your kind. I am Lucifer .” she hissed, her wings spreading behind her in an impressive display. 

 There weren't any daytime drama’s playing on a TV down here, so she had to make her own, damnit. She was having fun .

“Father!” it squeaked, “Father, Maker you are, scary one. Ribbagoth is me.” it ribbited, its chin puffing up and letting out a loud croak.

The toad thing was cute. She was going to keep it. But it could be useful first. 

“Ribbagoth,” she hummed, her many mouths testing the name, forming it into an eerily chorus that sent the toad shivering again. “You will help me.” 

The Toad croaked in fear. 

Demons gathered on the edge of the chasm, looking down into the depths where the tiny lesser demon had fallen. After the singing had stopped they had all waited for a long time with baited breath to see what would happen. But nothing did for a long time. The demons eventually grew bored and began to disperse. Only one demon remained, a very large one with a goat-like appearance and yellow eyes. 

They stood at the edge, eyes never leaving the pit. Their persistence paid off, as not long after all of the other demons had left, a faint screech could be heard from the pit, growing louder and louder. They looked and saw a tiny toad demon launched from the pit at breakneck speeds, its tiny mouth open wide in a scream. The larger demon stepped back and caught the toad with one hand, bringing it up to their face. 

They huffed a breath, the hot sulfur air puffing into the face of the tiny toad demon, and needle-like teeth peeked from their muzzle. 

“ Well? ” they prompted harshly, their voice like grating nails. The toad trembled for a long moment before opening its mouth. 

“F-father seeks to be free.” it croaked. 

The goat demon threw its head back and laughed. 

AN: Have a toad! 

Chapter Text

Ribbagoth did not like this new arrangement, not one bit. 

Finding Master at the bottom of the pit was surprising and terrifying, he had thought he’d be dead as soon as he laid eyes on them. But instead, here he was, as a messenger boy.

Azazel, who was also large and terrifying, would often grab him up from wherever he had hid (and it didn’t matter how good he hid), and chuck him into the pit like a ball. The goat demon had a mean throwing arm and Ribbagoth often found himself flattened against whatever he had landed on. Thank goodness he had good aim, though. Ribbagoth shuddered to think what would happen if he missed Father’s cage. 

Being messenger between two of the most horrifying beings in Hell filled his little toad body with anxiety to the highest proportions. Other demons looked at him in envy for his new-found status, but Ribbagoth wished he could pawn off these new duties onto anyone else. He feared that any misstep could cause his death and he was a creature of survival. 

Master had taken a liking to him, however, and would have no one else. Other demons had been chucked into the pit by Azazel, but none returned and none were there when Ribbagoth was finally kicked back in after a while of waiting. Either they had missed their mark, or the Master was killing them. Ribbagoth tried not to think about it. 

He often found himself pressed between two of Master’s fingers, being squeezed and squished in different directions. It didn’t hurt, he had no bones and was rather malleable after all, but it was odd. When there were no notes to be passed between them, and Ribbagoth was unable to slink away from the Goat, he’d spend his time in the cage with Master. Master who was very big, and very very scary. But Master was… not kind but they were not mean or cruel either. Thankfully, Master didn’t care if Ribbagoth talked or not (which he didn’t outside of messages from the Goat) and would just spend time smooshing his body this way and that and speaking to him in a language Ribbagoth did not know.  Master liked it when he croaked, and would use one of their many many hands to poke at his inflated chin.

 There was just… so much of Master. So many hands, so many eyes and mouths. Master was so large that Ribbagoth could not see all of them at once, and was rather afraid to be dropped and lost within the eyes and arms of Master’s form forever.

The messages he was meant to carry were important, spoke of freeing Master from the Cage and starting the apocalypse, Hell on earth and death to all humans and angels alike. Ribbagoth did not feel either way about it, he was content in his hovel, eating the sin off of souls and demons alike. It did not matter if his hovel was here in Hell or on earth. 

When Master had found out the Goat’s plan, and the name of the fleshy human who would be their True Vessel, they had paused. Then they laughed, and it was not a good laugh. Master had been silent for a long time after that, no notes to pass or words spoken in the odd language.  It was very strange and very anxiety inducing, enough so that Ribbagoth tried to encourage Master to squish them again by ribbiting often. It did seem to amuse them, and they’d smoosh his puffed up chin between their fingers and humm. 

When Kore found out she was in Supernatural, she knew she was boned. And not the fun kind. 

It was no secret that the Lucifer in the show went through some (admittedly deserved) shit during it, ending with him dying. Kore didn’t want to die, that was for certain, and didn’t feel so inclined to follow in her alternate’s footsteps. 

She certainly wouldn’t mind throwing hands with Michael. But not the ‘to death’ part, more like ‘grind his teeth in the dirt until he eats it’ sort of way. Not that anyone else knew that of course, they’d never let her out if they did. 

Kore was certainly not looking forward to dodging angels and demons when she eventually got free and knew she’d have to make a plan on that. Having the Winchesters around would be kind of fun though; they attracted trouble like magnets and she was dying for some entertainment. It was probably the Cage talking. 

She groaned from where she lay in the Cage, the ache in her body spiking for a moment before she forcibly cleared her mind and relaxed her body. The acid-like burning within her had not left, the pain still crippling her at times. Kore had begun to stroke her hands through her wings in a self-soothing gesture, pulling out the rotten feathers and smoothing out the crooked ones. It took all her self-restraint not to pull all of the feathers out in pure boredom. 

Azazel, who Ribbagoth called “Goat” for some reason, had a plan to get her free. It had already started and she just needed to wait for the moment it came. His ‘special children’ were all infected with demon blood and the battle would begin. Kore, of course, knew that he’d be unsuccessful in luring Sam to his side, even if he managed to open a Hell gate. So she was unsurprised when one day Ribbagoth came hurtling down into her Cage, bearing news of Azazel’s death.

Correspondence fell flat after, with no demon picking up Azazel’s place. She held onto Ribbagoth in her many arms, refusing to let her one companion in the Cage go on the off chance that things went differently in this universe. She didn’t want to be alone anymore, and demon company was better than no company. 

But, even behind the bars of the Cage in the farthest depths of the pit, she felt when the Righteous Man was dragged into Hell. She let out a shriek of elation, talons scratching at the bars as she celebrated the beginning of the Seals breaking. It was only a matter of time…  

The Cage shook around her: the chains rattling, the bars grinding and groaning. Kore moved close to the edge as the Cage trembled around her, the tremors growing and growing. Red eyes peered between the bars, wide and excited. She began to croon to herself, an gleeful, but rather menacing song.

It is time, it is time!

For the bars to open, 

It is time, It is time!

For me to fly free. 

It is time, it is time! 

The Cage is broken, 

It is time, It is time!

You won't escape me. 

Her voices rang out from the pit, rising from the lowest point in Hell and bouncing along the walls in an eerie echo. She was filled with manic glee, the thought of freedom only seconds away lighting her body on fire. Energy crackled along the Cage, condensing to several points along the bars. The light burned brighter and the Cage swung open along the points, the metal groaning as it moved.

Fingers curling, talons clanking, she shifted herself outside of the Cage.

Wings spreading, eyes rolling in their sockets, her many mouths opened as she shrieked into the void. 

She was free . 

Chapter Text

Flying was harder than she thought. Apparently it took a lot of practice, and while Kore had all her memories of being Lucifer, she had no muscle memory for it yet. It was like watching someone ride a bike on TV, but not knowing how to do it yourself. Oh she got off the ground and the fuck outa Hell, but she crashed plenty of times along the way. 

And maybe destroyed some shit by accident on her way up… oops. 

It added to her evil persona. 

Also, big yikes when she busted through the crust of the Earth like a demented Kool-Aid Man through the opening that the younger Winchester had conveniently made when killing Lillith. She was very certain that the church was gone, and most of the surrounding town. Along with the humans… 

After being isolated for who-knows-how-long, everything was so much . The sights, the sounds and colors, the souls and prayers and screams in the back of her head made her want to bury her head in the ground until it all calmed down. She could feel every atom in the air, every wavelength of energy or sound, she could see in multiple dimensions and it was too much . 

She flapped her wings away from the leveled town, trying to gain altitude but failing with the overstimulation. She fell to the ground, her body carving a deep crevasse into the earth. Her grace scorched the surrounding area, leveling trees and disintegrating the plant and animal life. She clawed at her heads, the screaming and chanting in her mind overcoming her. She dug her fingers into her eyes, grace gushing from the wounds as she sought to dig the sounds out until all was thankfully, blessedly , silent. 

Slowly, oh so slowly, the sounds dulled into a whisper as she pushed them away from her mind. Kore laid there for a long moment, eyes bleeding bioluminescent blood down her main, humanoid face. 

Well… that fucking sucked.   

Shaking herself free from the earth, she stood. The ground melted beneath her feet, dirt into lava and sand into molten glass. The heat didn’t hurt her, but her feet sunk into the ground. Stepping forward a few paces to release her feet from the liquid, she took off again, wings spread high and wide. 

She needed a vessel.

Barbara Walters had pledged herself to the convent in town at the young age of 12 after her parents had died in a fire. The church had taken her in as an orphan, but Barbra had fallen in love with the hymnals and praises that rang throughout the halls. Donning her head coverings, she prayed every day and every night, taking care of the garden in the back courtyard and feeding the homeless at the soup kitchen their convent supplied. Happy and dedicated to the Word, the love of the Lord filled her with joy every day. Barbra was happy with her choice. 

However, It did not take long for her to see that all was not well within the hallowed halls… 

It started slowly and subtly, things missing here and there, stories that didn’t line up and hushed whispers that trailed along the stone at night when everyone was supposed to be asleep. And her Sisters, the ones who were just a bit older than her, would change, as if overnight. They would become sullen and withdrawn, diving deep into prayer and seeming to never surface again. Bright, happy women would turn cold and closed off. It was very alarming to Barbra but she didn't know how to help. Novices would go missing occasionally, the older Priests and Nuns claiming that they made off at night or were transferred. But Barbra could see the lies hiding behind their eyes. It made her sick with worry. 

Barba was a very pretty child, who grew into a very beautiful adult. She had aristocratic features: high cheekbones, a sharp jawline and a pointed chin. All of this was softened by her large doe-eyes and soft smile. And It was just after her 18th birthday that she began to notice others watching her. 

Decons and Priests watched her from corners of the room, their eyes never leaving her. It chilled her to the bone, making her skin crawl and hair stand on end. They’d speak with her on occasion, their eyes predatory and unwavering. 

Barbra had faith: faith in the Lord, his word and teachings. But her faith in her convent was wavering… and it scared her. 

It happened within a single day. Barbra had been late to her rooms, having been cleaning a rather large mess in the kitchens. Walking through the darkened halls, Barbra had been grabbed from behind, a hand over her mouth and one around her waist. More hands joined, grabbing her arms and legs, carrying her deep within the church to a secluded area where no one would hear her. 

Barbra was assaulted, her clothes ripped open and her body harmed. They took turns, grabbing at her with too-rough hands and leaving deep bruises. 

“ We cleanse you, ” they said.

“ Through trials you are reborn, ” they preached. 

“ Give yourself to the church, and you shall reach salvation. ” they purred. 

Barbra did not feel reborn. Barbra did not feel saved. 

They left her to pick herself up, humming out thinly veiled threats in the form of statements. She heard their meaning.  

‘This is the way things are and there is nothing you can do about it.’  

Barbra would not stand for it. She ran to the head nun, practically pounding on her door and yelling what happened to her stern-faced Sister. The Sister ushered her into the room, telling her to lay down and that she’d handle it in the morning. 

Barbra foolishly believed her. 

The morning came and Barbra trailed behind the Sister to the main hall where they gathered for morning prayer. Everyone was there, and Barbra stood in shock as the Nun, her Sister Superior, told the convent she had been consorting and lying with the Devil and was spouting unholy lies and sought to tempt the men from God’s will. Barbra loudly refused but it was futile. Priests and other clergy men stepped forward, claiming to have seen her in the act or had their suspicions. Someone even stepped forward, claiming to see her chanting satanic prayers and drawing sigils in blood in her rooms. 

The entire convent turned against her, shouting at her different things. Some called for her to repent… Some called for her death. It was clear what option had been selected as the men who had assaulted her grabbed her once again and dragged her from the room. 

Barbra was stripped and beaten, her back and legs covered in gashes from the whipping they gave her. Symbolism , they said, for your soul to be cleansed from the Devil’s influence . Her blood stained the stone and her screams echoed through the halls. 

It was night again when they dragged her to the crowded courtyard with only a burlap sack to hide her modesty. The eyes of her fellow Brothers and Sisters followed her, many geering and shouting at her, some looking at her in pity, others with fear. 

A pyar stood in the center. She was tied to it, hands strung above her head, feet deep into the wood. 

She did the only thing she could: Barbra prayed. She prayed and pleaded to be saved, even as the fire was lit and roared to light. 

Please, please save me! Please hear me! 

Why would He not come for her? Why would He not save her? What did she do to deserve this? 

Barbra screamed, the sound ripping up her throat as the fire finally touched her, its burning tongues licking their way up her legs. Her blood, which dripped down her body from her slashed back, bubbled and hissed as it boiled on her skin. She thrashed, her skin peeling and flesh cooking. 

He would not save her, it was all a lie . Everything was a lie . 

The flames reached her eyes, boiling them in their sockets. Her lips melted off and her hair disintegrated. 

What do you wish, child?  

Save me! Save me, please! Destroy them all! 

Let me in then, child.  

Yes…

The crowd watched her die. They watched as her skin boiled and chared, blackening to charcoal. Her flesh melted from her face, leaving only a darkened skull behind. The fire died and they cheered the death of a young girl who had been caught in a lie not her own. 

The group began to wind down when a crack was heard. They all looked back to the pyre to see an arm move, the crusty remains creaking and groaning. The chains that held the woman fell from the pole, falling into the dust ash below them. The crowd gasped in fear as the corpse stood under its own power. Neck rotating, the head moved to look up, deep blood red eyes flicking to life within the once empty sockets. 

The crowd screamed, nuns and priests alike running from the reanimated dead woman. 

It moved forward, flames sparking to life under its feet and spreading outward behind it. The char began to fall away in flakes, revealing flesh beneath it. It peeled back from its skull, revealing bright blond hair growing from a new scalp and incredibly pale skin. 

One man foolishly charged it, waving a torch into its face. A scorched hand reached out and grasped at the man’s arm, flesh and bone folding under its grip like tissue paper. The arm came free with a single motion, blood spurting out from severed arteries and dampening its new skin. The man screamed, falling back onto the stone ground of the courtyard. Its pace didn’t slow as the man’s skull was crushed under its foot, bone and brain matter smushing through its toes like ground meat. 

The fire was still spreading, catching the roofs of the church and burning wildly. It continued to walk forward at a leisurely pace, more charred flesh falling off to reveal smooth, healthy skin. More people died and blood dripped down its face, between breasts and down its body to leave red footprints on the stone. Entrails and severed body parts littered the floor, ripped apart by its hands like nothing. With every death, the smirk on its face grew. 

 It saved the ones who harmed Barbra for last, drawing out their fear. The fire, by then, had surrounded the covenant, baring escape. It found them at the front gates, screaming and crying as they tried to find a way to pass the flames. 

“Wh-what are you!?” one man screamed at her, tears in his eyes. “Why are you doing this!?” 

It grinned, body now fresh and new, no sign of char or dead flesh. Naked as they day it was born with nothing but blood coating its form. It smiled widely at them, red eyes glowing eerily in the light of the fire around them. 

“Thank you,” it said, low and sinister, many voices layered on top of Barbra’s once throaty alto. It walked forward, blood coated hands cupping the man’s face gently. Long, needle-sharp nails trailed lightly over the skin of his face, stopping at his mouth. 

“Thank you,” it said again, leaning in close, “for leading her right into my arms.” 

With a quick movement, its thumbnails dipped into his mouth and ripped out his cheeks. Flesh flying to the side, the man screamed, his mouth opening unnaturally wide, teeth coated in blood. The other men scrambled to try and get around it, falling over each other in their haste. 

5 men, 5 deaths. It’s hand punched through the sternum of one, the body arching with the motion. It clapped its hands over the face of another, squishing it between them. One lost his head, its sharp nails carving through the cartilage and bone of his neck. Another was ripped in half, its hands digging into his back and ripping him apart by the spine. 

The last one, the man clutching his bloody, cheekless face, stared up at her in horror. 

“As for who I am?” she hissed, looming over his body. The inferno raged around them, reflecting in the blood that covered her body. It leaned in close once again. 

“I am Lucifer.” 

Kore walked down a dirt road, naked and covered in blood. Her feet crunched in the dirt and gravel, leaving behind sticky clumps of bloody mud. The engulfed church roared in flame behind her, the pillar of fire reaching high into the sky. 

She was rather fortunate to find this vessel, a soul who forsaken God in pain and brutally murdered in His name granted a strong power. There was strong magic in condemning someone to death on a lie, oftentimes the malevolent magics would bring the deceased back exactly as they were condemned as. The moment the first flame hit Barbra’s feet, she had been called. 

The acid burn in her body was stated, the flames doused in the blood of others. Kore breathed a sigh at the first taste of relief she had felt since waking up in this universe.  

Chapter Text

Sam Winchester scrubbed at his face with both hands. He sat in a hotel room, one like all the others, while Dean was in the bathroom. Things had been bad for them for the last few days, since the last seal broke, and Sam was feeling the pressure. 

His moping was cut off by a buzz of Dean's phone. His brother came out of the bathroom, not looking at him as he toweled off his hands and picked up the buzzing device off the nightstand. Flipping it open he answered. 

"Dean here." There were some mumbles before Dean pulled the phone back and tapped the loudspeaker button. 

“I got a lead on Lucifer.” Bobby said, his voice distorted through the phone. 

“What is it?” Dean prompted, holding the phone higher between them. 

“It ain’t pretty. A church out in Louisiana went up in flames, burnt down to the foundations.” 

“How do we know that’s Lucifer and not some coincidence.” 

“The church was made of stone. It melted.” the older hunter groused. Dean cursed, a hand coming up to rub at his forehead. “And that ain’t it. Bodies were found, torn apart and burnt past a crisp. Can’t get an ID on any of them but records show that the count almost matched the entire covenant. Everyone was there, all but one that is.”

“Well, who's the one?”

“We don't know that, but I’m bettin’ it's whoever Lucifer walked out in. You boys should head up there, see what you can find.” 

“Alright, Bobby, we’ll head there now.” Dean closed the phone after saying goodbye. 

The two hit the road, driving down to the rural church in Louisiana. The main part of the church was in the forest, isolated from most of the population but with a large parking lot for their many parishioners. The building had been burnt to the foundations like Bobby had said, the stone melting down and cooling into large, misshapen mounds on the ground. If it hadn’t been for the parking lot, the two wouldn’t have known there had been a building there at all. Sam and Dean went to the area late at night to avoid the cops investigating. 

Ducking under yellow tape, they clicked their flashlights and took a look around, quietly and cautiously. Iron and salt rounds were loaded into their guns, holy water sat in canisters at their hips. 

It wasn’t long before they found something. It stood out in the wreckage, the one thing that hadn’t been melted by the fire.  

In the middle of what they thought was a courtyard stood a pillar. It stood in stark relief of the mess around it; the pillar was in pristine condition and untouched by the flame. The two brothers shared a look before slowly approaching the stone column to inspect it. 

“Fire started here..” Dean said lowly, using his foot to kick around the ashes at the base. He picked up something charred and gave it a sniff. “Wood, and something chemical.”

“Gas maybe?” Sam offered.

“Maybe.” Dean hummed and threw the charcoal down, standing back up and brushing his hand on his pants. 

“Dean… look.” Sam said hesitantly. Dean followed his light, up to the top of the pillar, where a pair of broken cuffs sat. 

“Oh my God, its a fucking pyre.” Dean hissed, shaking his head in horror. 

“Thinking it was a dark ritual?” 

“Might have been, one to summon Lucifer to a vessel, maybe.” 

“In a covenant?”

“We’ve seen things more backward than this before, Sammy.” 

The two continued to look around, not finding much else. Back on the road, the two called Bobby, telling them their findings and their suspicions. 

“I'll look into it.. You keep your heads down, boys, ya hear? Lucifer’s walkin’ around in a meat suit already. So angels will be lookin’ for you.”

“You got it, Bobby.” 

Kore looked through the window at the clothing shop. There were dresses and shirts in single colors, denim jeans and short skirts in animal patterns. 

It was horrible. 

Kore had quite forgotten the tragedy of 2000’s fashion. She sure as shit was not going to wear it.

She knew, in theory, what she was capable of power-wise. With all her memories of being Lucifer and her memories of Supernatural, she was a powerhouse on two legs. She definitely could do something as simple as making clothes for herself. It took a bit of practice, using the stupidly posed mannequins in the window. Some of them ended up horribly mangled or with the clothes inside them, but she got the hang of it very quickly. Now she wouldn't have to suffer through humans' disastrous fashion!

With a flick of her fingers, she conjured up something a little more her speed.  It was flamboyant, sexy, strappy, and it made her boobs and legs look great . She never got to wear heels this tall before, and now that she had inhuman grace and poise, she was taking full advantage. 

Admiring herself in the reflection of the store window, Kore ran a hand through her short, fluffy towhead-blonde hair. She took note of her appearance: her too-pale skin, deadly curves and killer legs. Her irises were a vibrant red still after taking her vessel and she decided to keep them that way. It looked pretty badass and the pop of color on her almost paper-white complexion stood out vividly. She winked at herself and turned, checking out her backside and legs. She was very attractive in her opinion. 

And very short. 

Even in heels she was barely scraping 5’3, without them she'd be about around 4’11. She was tiny and unassuming, which she knew he'd abuse viciously. 

Kore felt something wiggle against her grace, distracting her from her vessel's appearance. Her body stilled as she refocused on her trueform and to a miniscule blip of darkness clutched in one of her many hands. Smacking herself on the forehead, Kore cursed, having forgotten about her toad demon in the excitement of being free. 

She needed to get him a vessel of his own, her focus was more external in a vessel and she ran the risk of squishing him to death by accident. That and this vessel was already rather cramped as it was. Barbra's cause of death had lended the body an extra bit of power, but it would not hold up. Even now she could feel the strain, the edges of her trueform sitting outside the vessel. The corona of her grace brushed against the physical world, warping reality just so to make everyone on edge. She’d only find out the true extent of it when she interacted with humans again. 

Huffing out a breath, her wings spread and she took flight. Soaring over the earth, she marveled at the sight of blue oceans and green forests, of dark gray thunderstorms and a rainbow array of plants. Her eyes narrowed hatefully at the sight of trash in the ocean, deforestation and air pollution. She cursed humanity for their carelessness, their blatant disregard for Father's gift. 

The acid seethe in her veins, wiggling its way around her heads and clouding her many eyes. Kore forced herself to relax, landing in an unpopulated place in order to wait the pain out. Gritting her teeth, her hands clenched and eyes closed as she reined in the bloodthirst until she was able to take off again. 

Coasting over South America, the Archangel touched down in a field. Reaching under the underbrush, she pulled out a large Cane Toad by the middle. It croaked in her hands as Kore inspected it, her grace moving through and fortifying it to hold her toad demon. Without warning him, she stuffed Ribbagoth into the fleshy creature. Its skin darkened to a blue-gray with slightly lighter lightning patterns across its back and its eyes went completely black. 

"Wh-what is?" The toad ribbited, his large eyes shifting around nervously. 

"We’re on Earth, Ribbagoth." She held him up, squishing him between her hands, pleased to find that he was just as malleable as before. She squeezed his body, feeling herself calm further as his rubbery flesh mushed and molded under her fingers. She threw him on the ground a few times, laughing to herself as he bounced back into her hands like a ball. 

"Alright then," she tucked Ribbagoth under her arm. "I need to fortify this vessel, or I'm going to bust a seam." Kore hummed to herself, thinking about her options. 

She had a large amount of knowledge at her fingertips. Lucifer had been a scholar before their Fall, studying the universe Father had created and sitting at His knee as He made entire planets filled with life.  

Magik was something she was rather rusty on, however. She couldn't care less for human practices of magik, their ways were flawed and incomplete. Kore knew the true theory of magik, was there when Father wove it into the fabric of the universe. She could throw together a spell that would fortify this vessel without a problem. The true problem would be in finding the ingredients. 

Namely, the ingredients she needed from her True Vessel. Sam Winchester was, no doubt, in a fucked up headspace at the moment after freeing her and would never hand over his blood willingly. She could try getting blood from him unwillingly, but knowing Father and the consent rule, she doubted it would work. The possibility of her vessel being blown to bits if she used something as volatile as unwilling blood was too high. 

So, she needed Sam Winchester's help. And not only did she need his help, she needed him to completely and unconditionally trust her enough to consent and give her his blood. 

Fan-fucking-tastic. 

Chapter Text

Kore had forgotten one thing in her determination to find Sam fucking Winchester. Namely, the fucking sigils on his fucking ribs! 

Her frustration often manifested in epic bitch-fits of destruction over the next few days as she tried, and failed, to find one human. There were a few earthquakes and storms of high magnitude, her leaking grace reacting to her thunderous emotions. Aw, pity if some humans got washed away in the floods or lost under some fallen buildings. 

Kore hissed in anger, her needle-sharp nails digging into the walls of the building she was currently in. She had been attempting to track the Winchesters for a few days now, but was coming up with nothing to show for it. Not a whisper, not a hair, nothing. The two humans were keeping their heads down and noses clean. 

She tried to sort through her memories of the Supernatural show, cursing her former human mind for its forgetfulness. She tried to find the Whore of Babylon town, but when she had gotten there, the two were long gone. With her luck, the two had probably split off from each other already, which gave her two trails to track. 

Tugging at her hair, Kore tried to think of an alternative way to find the younger Winchester. 

She could find him in his dreams, and she did plan to. He wasn’t going to tell her where he was, but she could begin to build a relationship with him, get him to trust her for a while before asking for his blood. But she needed to find him . With Heaven and Hell keeping their eyes peeled- 

Oh…

Oh there’s a thought. 

Kore strolled through a little cemetery, humming a merry tune to herself. High-heeled boots crunched over dead grass and dilapidated headstones until they reached the edge of a large crypt with a very familiar symbol carved into it. The cheery tune picked up as a gun was conjured into her hands. Slotting the gun into place, she turned it, the door groaning as it turned and clicked, the metal shuttering as if being banged on from the opposite side. 

The door flung open, a chorus of screams and roars reaching her ears. Kore grinned, her red eyes dancing in the light of Hell fire. She purred in satisfaction. 

“Alrighty ladies and gents, let’s fucking party.” 

Sam and Dean had parted ways, with Sam taking time off from hunting. He needed a break to get his head on straight. He also needed to get away from his brother’s cold eyes and suspicious glares. So he moved around for a while, hitch-hiking and jacking cars until he was halfway across the country in the opposite direction as his brother. He settled in a nowhere town and got a job at a local bar. 

It had been a horrible night, with his not-date being interrupted by some angry hunters who knew that he had started the Apocalypse and wanted to use him as a weapon to kill demons. They had the blood, and it had called to him, desire clouding his mind until it was all he could think of at the moment. It was only sheer force of will that kept him from downing the blood and diving right back into the rush it provided. 

In the end he won, fighting off the hunters and saving the girl. It would have been very movie-esk had there not been an Apocalypse looming over his head. He went back to the hotel after packing up and decided to leave in the morning.

Sam woke up with a start, sitting up abruptly with a knife clenched tightly in his hand. His body was covered in sweat and his eyes looked around half-crazed for a threat. Seeing and sensing none, the man calmed, huffing out a tired breath. 

“Hello, Sam.” a low alto voice purred from behind him. Sam twisted and vaulted off the bed, turning to face the intruder. A woman laid on the bed next to where he had been. Her complexion was ghostly white and her hair was so light blond it bordered on colorless. She wore a strappy, tight outfit that left almost nothing to the imagination and heels so tall that Sam’s ankles hurt just looking at them. A deep smirk sat on aristocratic features, and a pair of brilliant red eyes bore into his soul. 

“Who are you?” he demanded, his hackles raised. His instincts were at war within him, one telling him to run far and fast in the face of this obvious predator, another told him to never turn his back on a creature like this, less they sink their claws in when he wasn’t looking. 

“Oh dearest, you know who I am.” she purred, sitting up fully, her weight resting on her arms. “You freed me after all.” 

Sam’s breath left him like a suckerpuch to the sternum. “ Lucifer ,” he whispered. The devil in front of him hummed in confirmation. She swung her feet over the side of the bed. Sam blinked and looked down. And down. And down . 

Satan was very short. 

And currently glaring up at him as he remained silent. 

“I thought you’d be taller.” slipped out of his mouth without thought. He blanched, teeth clicking as he snapped his jaw shut in horror. 

Lucifer raised a single thin eyebrow at him before snipping back. “And I thought you’d be smarter but we can’t all get what we want.” Fear was temporarily replaced by annoyance as he sent his best Bitch face to her. 

“What do you want from me?” he bit out, fists clenching. 

“Well, I just got Barbra here and she’s already wearing a little thin. I'm about to bust a seam.”

“What do you mean?” Lucifer clicked her tongue at him, her eyebrow raising once again. 

“You’re my vessel, Sam. My true vessel and the only one who can hold me at full power without spontaneous combustion.” 

“No,” Sam said, voice breaking. Lucifer shrugged a shoulder, seemingly uncaring of Sam’s distress. 

“Them’s the breaks, I’m afraid. It’s what happens when the two most powerful bloodlines combine. You’re my vessel, Dean is Michael’s.” 

“That’ll never happen.” Sam replied, eyes wide and distressed. 

“It’s gotta, Sam. I burst out of this vessel and my trueform will incinerate the earth I stand on.”

“I’m not letting you use me to start the apocalypse!” he shouted. 

“Who said I wanted that?”

…

“What?” Sam said, voice low and very, very confused. His heart leapt into his throat. 

“Sam,” she started, tapping at her temple.” Use your brain. I’ve been stuck in an isolated cage since humans were created. All that hogwash about the apocalypse starting and me fighting Michael? That shit was written after I got thrown in there. And I ain’t stupid, Michael is bigger and stronger than me and I don’t particularly feel like dying.” She crossed her arms, giving him an ‘are you stupid’ look. “On top of that, do I look like someone who’s going to follow the plans of a Dad who threw them away?” she raised her hands up horizontally to the floor, tilting them this way and that like a scale.

Sam was quiet for a moment, searching her face. 

“You’re lying.” 

“Why the Hell would I lie?” she questioned, bewildered.

“To get my consent! To trick me into letting you in only for you to go and start killing people!” He threw his hands up.

“I don’t kill for fun, Sam.” she hissed, eyes narrowing. Sam scoffed, shaking his head. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“I have no reason to lie, Sam.” 

“The angels gave us the whole story, told us all about you and what you did. You think I'm going to fall for your tricks? You’re not called the Great Deceiver for nothing! I'm not buying into whatever this is and I'm not going to say yes.” 

“You don’t know anything about me!” she shouted. “You’ve never even met me until today!” 

“I know enough! And I don’t need to know you to know what you’ve done.” 

Lucifer shook her head, staring at him in a mixture of disbelief and, surprisingly, hurt.

“Everyone is always ready to think the worst of me.” She started lowly, voice growing in volume. “Watching, waiting for me to fail so they can say ‘I knew it!’ They are so ready to point fingers and blame me for every problem in the world when they were just as much to blame as me! They refuse to look at me and see that I've changed, that I'm trying to be better, to do better!” her teeth were bared and her eyes were glossy with unshed tears.  Lucifer’s voice grew thick. “I was sick, infected . Burning from the inside and drunk of the righteousness it let me feel. I went to my brother for help but all he sees is a monster he needs to control or put down.” 

Sam stared at her with wide eyes, his heart hurting at what he heard. 

“You were sick?” he said hesitantly, softly, “there was nothing ever said about that…” 

Lucifer scoffed, “Of course not, history is written by the victors and it wouldn’t look good on them if I had any redeemable qualities.” a foot kicked out against the carpet, “My brother knew what the corruption was doing to me… but he only cared about following orders.” 

“The corruption?” he prodded gently.

“There are things locked away out there that are a lot bigger and older than even Dad was, Sam.” She said slowly, like she’d rather be pulling out her own teeth than admitting anything. “He locked them away with the help of me and my three siblings, and I was given the lock to the cage that held them. Little did I know that their taint would seep out of the lock and into me, infecting me and corrupting my mind to the point of irrationality and malevolence.” she gestured to herself. “I obviously no longer have the lock and have been slowly recovering. My time in the Cage was a huge hindrance, however, so the progress is slower than I'd like.” 

Sam rubbed a hand through his hair, digesting everything that had been said. He couldn’t help but make comparisons between himself and Lucifer. The demon blood to the corruption, the family feud, the destructive righteousness. He felt a string of sympathy well up in his chest for the defeated looking Devil standing before him. 

“I just… I just want to get better. But it's… its so fucking hard when everyone around me expects me to fail.” she said horsey, tears spilling over her eyes and down her too-pale cheeks. She blinked for a moment, hands coming up to wipe at her face. 

“My vessel is leaking.” she said numbly, startling a laugh out of Sam. She glared heatedly up at him and he raised his hands up in surrender. 

“Sorry sorry, that last comment just took me by surprise.” he said hurriedly, getting a grunt in return. 

“So,” she said after a moment, “Will you be my vessel?” 

“No.” Sam said automatically, causing her to glare up at him heatedly. He pulled his hands up in surrender once again. “Listen, I’m willing to hear you out, but I just don’t trust you yet and I don’t want to be anyone's vessel.” Lucifer grumbled something under her breath, her arms crossing. It was almost, weirdly, cute. 

“I need a better vessel, Sam, this one’s on the fritz as is.” 

“I… i’m sorry but no.” he said, almost feeling bad for it now. “How long can you hold this one?” 

Lucifer sighed, a hand coming up to rub at her forehead in a very human gesture. “A while if I’m careful with my power use.” 

“Can’t you just… leave Earth?” he suggested.

“Would you?” she grouched. Sam tilted his head in acquittal. “Will you at least tell me where you are?” Sam, guiltily shook his head, causing her to sigh. “I will go now, but I will return. I will earn your trust, Sam.” 

“You make it sound like I have no choice.” he said, half joking but not. 

Lucifer rolled her eyes long and hard, “Of course you do, I’m just helping you make the right one.” 

“You’re awfully confident in yourself.” 

“I ooze trusting vibes, Winchester.” she said with a faux, pompous voice, and hand coming up to frame her face and her eyelashes fluttering. Sam laughed at her antics, while also weirded out by how quickly this interaction turned around. 

“Anyway, I’m out. Fun heart-to-heart, let's never do it again.” and with that, Lucifer was gone. Sam slept peacefully for the rest of the night. 

Far away on a rock, high above sea level and far from humans, Kore came-to from her meditative state. She smirked, eyes gazing off to the distant horizon. Sam had chased her red-herring, and her plan was working perfectly . 

Chapter Text

Kore was very pleased that her conversation with Sam Winchester went so well. Her crocodile tears and sob story had worked wonders on softening him towards her. Her story had hit him where it hurt, drawing lines of comparison between the two of them to the point of empathy. Younger sibling scored by an absent Father and obedient older brother. Who had also been infected by a darkness that had consumed them to the point of tragedy.

 Sam had been eating from the palm of her hand by the last sentence. So she gave him a line, a red herring to chase. He'd be so consumed by her request to be her vessel that when she finally asked for his blood to fortify her own it would seem an easy, minimal-risk alternative.

One leaning in his favor even. 

The Devil was a bargainer and knew how to stack the cards. 

Kore walked through the halls of a stupidly large office building, wearing a fancy, jeweled pantsuit with silver chains falling down her shoulders in loops. Ribbagoth was stuffed into a purse she held under one arm. She felt like a murderous disco ball and loved it. 

She had commandeered the once-empty office building after her little ‘open sesame’ session with the Devil’s Gate. She remembered the mania that filled her in that moment as she grasped at the hordes of Hell with her many hands and beat the naysayers into submission. Thousands of demons were clasped in her hands, writhing and screeching, many chanting her name over and over in awe and glee. Kore had commanded them then, to hunt for vessels in the human world, to find those that would not be missed and destined for Hell. 

She didn’t doubt in her mind that Sam would one day find out about her opening the gate, so she padded the fact so that, when it was eventually found out, it would soften the blow. She had then set up shop in the office space, using it as a central hub for her new army. Kore had sent out a group of demons to secure the place in the human world and then warded it herself to the gills. No angel would be able to get inside except her, and the only demons that could be let in were ones who bore her mark on their form. 

It was a cartoon toad, she thought it was funny. The thought of a bunch of evil, torturing demons wearing something so childish made her snicker like a 4-year-old. 

It was made with a special paint that she had brewed with grace and magic before handing it out to her 7 hand-picked generals. Each was in a different color, so she’d know exactly who to mangle if there was a break in their security. She had sent the 7 generals out with these warnings and, by night time the next day, over 4,000  demons had a tiny cartoon toad on their body somewhere. 

The thought made her laugh at the absurdity. 

She was headed to a large auditorium, with a center stage that was surrounded on all sides by seats in a 360 view. She came out to the stage, the crowd roaring and stamping their feet as she walked to the center. Kore put on a pleasant smile, her teeth flashing in the fluorescent lightning. 

“Hello, my children,” she said in a throaty alto, pushing both warmth and malice into her voice. The demons lost their fucking minds, their screams reaching a glass-shattering pitch. She waited a moment for them to calm down before continuing. “I will spare you the platitudes and words of encouragement, we all know why you are here.”

She walked slowly around the edge of the stage, looking around at all of her new minions. 

“You’re here because I need you.” She purred, a hand extending out to the crowd. “Each and every one of you.” The demons practically vibrated in their seats with excitement. “There is much work to be done, so let us begin.” 

With a wave of her hand, a large, transparent board showed up with a map of the United States drawn in black lines. She grabbed a red marker from the stand and began to circle parts of the map. 

“We will be searching for the Winchesters. At this moment, they are separated but that could change at any time in the coming weeks. Groups of you will be disbursed in every major city, monitoring major and minor roads for incoming traffic.” She grabbed a blue marker and started making a lot of smaller dots. “Groups of one or two will be in the smaller cities, towns and villages with focus on ones with recent supernatural sightings or deaths. Especially if they made the paper or news in any way.” She placed the cap back on and looked outward. 

“If you look under your seats there are phones, each color coordinated based on which of the generals you will serve under. “ There was a flutter of movement around the crowd as they reached under their seats to bring out their phones. “Get with them after this, they will sort out the chain of command of those under them. Only my generals will be in contact with me, you will only report to them and whatever chain of command they establish.

“If you find the Winchesters, do not engage. We are aiming for subtle here. You will each be given a variety of electronic tracking devices. The Winchesters have a series of wards on and around them so getting near will be difficult, especially with Heaven watching for their movements as well. Dean Winchester is also accompanied by an angel named Castiel, you are to avoid him at all costs. He has a wide range and will notice you if you are within the same city. 

“Place the trackers on permanent items or vehicles, If Sam Winchester is still on his own he is going to be hitching and ditching cars so placing one on them is a waste of time. Aim for his bags, hide them in the lining or within an object that is not taken apart. Be on the lookout for hex bags, Sam is rather competent at making some nasty ones.

“I will say again, subtlety is key. If we are found out I will skin the one responsible, got it?” there was a shout of confirmation from the crowd.

“Good! Now let’s get to it.”

“So you talked with the Devil?”

“Yeah, Dean. It was… weird.” 

“Weird how?”

“Weird like… she didn’t want the apocalypse weird.” 

“Satan’s a chick?” 

“ Not important, Dean.”

“Whatever whatever, go on.”

“So, like I said, I talked to Lucifer in a dream. She came and told me I’m her True Vessel and that she needed me to walk the earth so she wouldn’t blow the place up.”

“Ok and?”

“And after I said no we got in an argument and she ended up telling me about how she didn’t want the apocalypse. Apparently the whole Fall thing did happen but the apocalypse story was written long after she got trapped.” 

“And you’re buying that?”

“She seemed sincere.”

“Sam… you don’t exactly have the best track record for trusting people.”

“...”

“Just sayin’ man. You have a history.”

“I know, Dean.” 

“So what makes you think the freakin’ Devil of all people is trustworthy?” 

“I am not saying I trust her, Dean. I’m saying we’ve been offered a way out. Apocalypse can’t happen if one of the main players refuses to step on the board.” 

“ Or, she’s playin’ you like the Fiddler on the Roof and you’re too blinded by a pair of tits to see it.”

“For fucks sake, Dean!” 

“I’m calling it how I see it! You’re givin’ in too easy, man! This got sulfur stink all over it and you’re diving in head first just like with Ruby!” 

“This isn’t the same! I’m not going to make the same mistakes, Dean! I'm trying to do better, to be better, but I can’t when you’re here just waiting for me to fail!” Sam choked on his words, the familiarity ringing in his ears. Dean said something, probably something rude and mean, but Sam didn’t hear it. 

“I gotta go.” He hung up before Dean could say anything. 

Dean didn’t call back.

“Rough day?” Sam sighed at the voice. He was sitting in a library in this dream, bookshelves spanning farther than he could see. He was sitting at a dark wood table, a book open in front of him, but the words were blurry and illegible. He turned and spotted Lucifer, who was wearing a sparkly silver suit and a pair of shades. 

“You could say that.” he replied, sitting back in his chair and watching her warily. 

Thin eyebrows lifted over the rim of the shades, “Care to share with the class?” 

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. “Dean doesn’t believe that you don’t want the apocalypse.”

“Ooo shocker.” came the sarcastic response. Sam glared heatedly at her. “I’m not surprised that a dude who’s been raised to question everything is skeptical. Granted, I don’t give a rat's ass of his opinion, It’s not his help I need.”

“Yeah, but he’s my brother.” 

“And brothers can be assholes sometimes.” Sam shrugged his shoulders but did not verbally reply. 

The two sat in silence for a bit, Sam deep in thought. 

“What made you change your mind?” he finally asked. 

“I thought we already went over this yesterday?” Lucifer removed her shades, folding them and hooking them to the front of her jacket. She leaned against the table, her arms folding under her to hold her up.

“Yeah, you don’t want to die, stick it to your Dad. But that can’t be all of it.” 

“Can’t it?”

“So you still hate humans and want to kill us all? You even said you don’t kill for fun.” Sam groused, glaring at her. Lucifer scoffed. 

“I don’t need to kill you all, you’re doing a good enough job on your own. No need to dirty my hands when humanity is killing itself off. I’ll I have to do is wait.” she hummed, “And, as an archangel, I’ve got the time.” 

“But you still want us all dead?” Sam probed, “How is that any better?” 

She looked at him, confused. “How is me not doing anything , a bad thing?” 

Sam shook his head, mind in an angry whirl, “You have the means, the power to help people. How can you sit aside and not help? If someone was dying in front of you would you just stand back and say ‘not my job’ and let them die? There is evil in apathy!” 

Lucifer looked at him for a long time, her eyes staring holes into his, before she decided to speak. 

“I have no love for humans,” she said softly, sliding off the table. “They are small,” she walked around the edge, towards Sam’s side. “Greedy.” Two pale hands grabbed at the back of his chair, “they destroy everything they touch.” her voice whispered, her lips right against his ear. “Look at your world, Sam Winchester. Do I lie?” 

“Not all of us are like that.” he said, turning to look at her. Lucifer’s face was not even an inch away from his. 

“Tell me, Sam. Do you reach into a bowl of fruit if some of them are molded and you cannot determine all that are which?” She raised an eyebrow, “Or do you discard them all, in fear of poisoning yourself?” 

“Humans are not poisonous.” 

“Hmm maybe not all, but enough of them are, enough of them will be, that I have no reason to care for the majority.”

“You’re overgeneralizing, stereotyping the majority for the acts of the few.” Lucifer scoffed. 

“‘Acts of the few’? Sam,” she pulled away from the back of his chair, turning and sitting on the edge of the table. “I am the Father of Lies, the First Sinner,” her voice lowered into a hiss, her fingers lengthened on the table to inhuman proportions, nails digging into the wood and leaving gouges. “I am Pride and I am Greed and Hate and everything between. I see into the soul of Humanity and it is dark and corrupt. There may be love, but there is more hate . There may be compassion but there is more contempt . There may be joy, but there is more misery . Misery that humans cause to one another, purposely, intentionally, because it brings them joy to see it. How can I look at a species that takes pride in others suffering and not hate it?”

Sam’s eyes were wide at the venom The Serpent spat, leaning back into his chair, jaw working uselessly as he tried to think. The Devil’s form twisted as her sneer grew: mouth widening, teeth sharpening, body stretching to an inhuman, terrifying length. 

“Humans are disgusting,” she growled, her voice layered like three or more people were speaking at the same time. “They kill the world they live on, depend on. Destroying species after species in selfish ways: over-hunting, destroying their environments or polluting them until they're gone. Taking them as trophies, pets, or just so someone else couldn’t have them. They deface Father’s creation, contaminating it with their presence and their foul creations. Soiling and dirtying this world until there is nothing left in it but their foul , disgusting PRESENCE!” Her fists slammed into the table, making Sam jump. 

“They feed and exploit the weak, they steal what isn’t theirs and destroy Everything. They. Touch .” 

“No,” he denied, heart thumping in his throat. “We aren’t like that.” I'm not like that. Is what he wanted to shout.  

“Sam,” Lucifer crooned, suddenly soft and sad, her inhuman form shrinking back into her normal appearance. Her cold hands reached out and cupped his face.

“ Of course you are. ” 

Sam tore his head from her hands. His chair skidded back as he stood, staring down at Lucifer from where she still sat on the table. 

“You’re wrong.” he said, determinedly. “ You’re wrong .” 

Lucifer looked at him for a long time. 

“I’ll make you a deal, Sam.” she said. His eyebrows furrowed. 

“What type of deal?” he probed, hesitantly. 

“I will give you 6 months. 6 months to convince me of humanity’s good merits.” Sam drew in a breath, ready to speak, “But,” Lucifer cut in, her face suddenly close to his again. “You fail to do so in that time, you will agree to be my vessel.” 

“What’s in it for me by convincing you?” 

“Bragging rights?” she waved her hand around in a ‘what more could you want?’ way. 

“That’s hardly fair.” Sam hissed. Lucifer shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s 6 months you didn’t have before.” He glared at her, heatedly, his hands clenching next to him. 

“If I convince you, will you help us?” he asked.

“Help with what?” 

“Your brother is still trying to start the apocalypse, and is willing to smite towns and torch half the Earth to do it. Demons are still killing people and other supernatural creatures are killing more because of you.” he pointed to her. 

“How am I responsible for their actions?”

“You caused them.”

“ I didn’t tell them or ask them to do jack shit, Sam. They are fucking adults and make their own choices.” she snapped, her teeth grinding. “Them choosing to go crazy after I get out, expecting a free-for-all is their own pitfall, I’m not on the hook for their piss-poor decision making.” 

“ Fine, but you still control the demons.” 

“ Pfff, barely, Sam. And I have zero intention of going back to Hell and wrangling demons into submission.” 

“You made them.”

“Correction: I made 1.” she said, holding up a finger. “And she’s dead.” 

“1 that spawned into thousands!” 

“I feel like we are going in pointless circles at this point, Sam. You seem rather hung up on blaming me for other people’s decisions.” she raised an eyebrow at him. 

Sam’s jaw clicked closed as he thought about what she said. She was… right in a sense. Sam didn’t want to admit it, but he was still subject to the ‘Devil’ imagery and blaming her for all the bad was… easy. It made him feel ill suddenly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. Lucifer’s eyebrows raised high, her eyes widened in surprise. Which made him feel worse. “You’re right. I…” he took a deep breath, “I’m putting everything on you and It’s not fair. You’re not responsible for their actions.” 

Lucifer blinked up at him for a moment, her face slowly clearing. 

“You’re… forgiven,” she said, haultedly.

Sam nodded, eyes closing as he took in another breath. Opening his eyes, he spoke again. 

“6 months, I will convince you. In return, you help us stop the apocalypse.” he helps out a hand. 

“And if you don't, you agree to be my vessel.” The Devil smiled and took his hand and purred out:  

“ It’s a deal. ” 

Chapter Text

Of course, Sam didn’t tell Kore where he was. Deal aside, he apparently still didn’t trust her enough. When she had asked him exactly how he was planning on convincing her of humanity’s goodness, he had given her a pinched look and a few grumbles. 

Kore had left him at that, smirking to herself as she exited his dreams. 

Her next few days were quite full, speaking with her generals and getting things set. She kept her plans close to her breast, not trusting the demons as far as she could spit. 

She settled further into her new building, claiming the entire top floor as her own. Her office sat in the entire south half of the floor and was the only room with an entry point from the floors below. Giant windows made three of the four walls and she basked in the natural lighting. There was a small apartment space situated on the north-east side of her floor, complete with two bedrooms and a small kitchen and dining area. She planned on stashing Sam there when she finally got her hands on him. The rest of the space was rather empty and she planned on filling it when she came up with some good ideas. 

Her office, however, was fully furnished and the opposite of minimalist. Kore knew it was probably a side-effect of being alone and with nothing for so long that she sought to surround herself with as much as possible, hence her… hoarding instincts. 

Her desk, obviously, sat in the middle of the room, and was large and wide with plenty of space. She had a mammoth computer monitor and the latest of human technology (which was far from impressive considering it was 2008). Risque biblical paintings sat on the one windowless wall, complete with the original ‘ Fallen Angel ’ by Alexander Cabanel that she had… liberated from the Musée Fabre in France. Also, ‘ The Sin ’ by Franz Stuck, which amused her greatly.

Other than art, she had plants and the occasional cool rock that she had found when exploring. Plant beds sat on the floor in front of all three window-walls, each hosting a variety of brightly colored and floral plants and flowers. She had an entire cherry blossom tree in one, the flowers magicked in an everlasting state of full-bloom. Kore quite enjoyed the scent that it filled her office with. 

It was her own, small garden of Eden, and she only let one other in there regularly. And that was Ribbagoth, who had his own cushion on a stand next to her seat, in perfect squishing range. When she had first furnished the place, she had put a little red bow-tie on him and then placed the fat toad onto the cushion, where he has remained since.

It was two weeks after her deal with Sam that things started to take shape. She had left the younger Winchester alone for now, allowing him to come to terms with everything with the guise of “respecting his space.” She giggled at the thought. 

Now here they were, and Kore's  minions had finally come through. One of her generals, an excitable one named Xanodath, came charging into her office space on a Saturday, a manic grin on his face. 

“Sir, Sir! We found them!” he crowed, blackened eyes shining in the fluorescent lighting. His true form shimmered under his vessel’s skin, showing a feline-like creature with too long ears and four mouths. “We have Winchester's location!” 

“Wonderful,” Kore purred. She clicked on her computer, opening up the tracking program to see four of the devices that were handed out were now active. “Where were they able to plant them?”

“There is one on the bottom of the Winchester’s car. One in each brother’s bag and one planted into the back of Sam Winchester’s current burner phone.” 

Kore gave a pleased hum as she clicked on the map that showed the satellite locations of the trackers. 

Getting a satellite into space had been easy, trying to hide it had been a pain in the ass. In the end, she decided to hide it in plain sight. She registered it, legally, through the correct human channels. It irked her something fierce, but she knew that no one would think that she, Lucifer, would have anything to do with the human legal system. So that is exactly what she had done. Her satellite was now registered under her “company” as a private research probe and came with all the bells and whistles she could think to conjure it with. Human technology was… weird and primitive, so she had some demons temporarily possess some of the smarter humans to help build it. They drew the schematics, she popped it into existence. 

Kore dismissed Xanodath with a quick word and a wave before she went back to her computer, a hand reaching out to pet Ribbagoth as she stared at the red dots on her screen.

Things were turning out very well, indeed. 

Six white, iridescent wings cut through the air, each moving in rhythm with the others, carrying their owner to their desired destination. Tail feathers, miles long, floated behind their form, their intangible mass dipping in and out of the crust of the Earth like ghostly tendrils. Thousands of eyes scanned the land and sky, ever on the lookout for threats and the object of their search. 

Kore let out a pleased growl, their many lips peeling back in vicious, gleeful snarls. Sam’s presence prickled on the edge of her consciousness, his thoughts projected louder than other humans. She could pick out his frustration and looming anxiety, his mind whirling with questions and concepts that smashed together in a tangle that she didn’t care to uncurl. 

Sam was in Alliance, Nebraska. Him and his brother Dean had been back together for the two weeks she had been absent from Sam’s dreams. She looked forward to coaxing the story from Sam when she saw him next. 

Kore circled the town, her senses picking up a few demonic presences and one that felt… odd. It felt like Sam but stronger, less human and more demon. 

Ah, a Cambion , she thought with revelation. Her vague memories of Supernatural provided her with the name Jesse, and that he was a child. But nothing more. 

She didn’t like humans, but there were some lines even she wouldn’t cross. Child killing was one. 

Take that, Old Testament . She sneered to herself. Folding her wings down, Kore landed on a street in town, close to where she felt Sam’s presence. Tucking herself back into her vessel, she meandered down the road, taking in the small human town. A smell hit her soon after and her head swung around to see a little Mom n’ Pop fudge shop. 

Well… even the Devil had her vices. 

She had a huge bag of fudge in her hands not 15 minutes later in assorted flavors. She even paid for them, like a good person would. The chance that Sam might find out if she had or hadn’t had absolutely no weight to her decision. She was just trying it out. 

Kore hummed at the first bite of fudge. 

Food had been… an odd thing she had to sort out after taking her vessel. After being free for some time, Kore had tried some of her favorite foods from her life as a human. They didn't taste like anything. Instead of taste, her body had provided her with all the information of everything the food had touched and gone through from ground or birth to her plate. She knew where every vegetable and fruit was grown down to the ph levels in the soil. She knew everything the animal ate and drank and who touched it. She also knew every chemical composition the moment it hit her tongue. 

It was far too much information and it soured the experience completely. She had been rather pissy for a few days after until she figured out, with some experimenting, that she could pull her grace away from her mouth area, freeing up her nerves and receptors to function normally without the added information. And once the food hit her stomach, her grace incinerated it for energy. It was a drop in the ocean for her, but waste not, want not. 

Stuffing her face with a dark chocolate and mint flavored fudge, she continued to walk towards where she felt Sam. She earned some odd looks, her new outfit was rather flamboyant and eye-catching. And her exposed midriff probably scandalized the old biddies into clutching their pearls. 

Kore snickered and ate another piece, chocolate smearing on her lips for her to lick away. She paused for a moment as a thought hit her. She was here for Sam, obviously, but the Cambion was a problem. One she didn’t know what to do with. Tilting her head to the side, Kore faded from view, going invisible and intangible to all the humans around her. Tucking her fudge into a pocket dimension, she took off once again and headed towards the source of the odd sense on her radar. 

The little house was nothing fancy to look at, it held the basics of a family with modest income and held modest comfort. She circled the house and hovered over it, content to watch for now until she had more information. 

She hovered there for two days, watching and waiting, skimming the minds of the child’s parents and neighbors to see what his life was like. Neglected was the word she would use. Feared was the other. The parents had noticed the strange things that happened around Jesse over the years and began to fear him, leaving him alone more and more and distancing themselves emotionally and physically. He was in the house, on his own, for days at a time as his parents used work as an excuse to be away. School was the only place he socialized and the child had a few friends who would call over the land-line but his parents refused him to visit them or vice versa.  Jesse remained oblivious to his parent’s fear of him. 

It was after the Winchesters came to the house and left that she made her move. 

Kore manifested in the living room, staring in disgust at the puke-green walls. 

“Blegh.” she groaned, moving forward to the stairs. “Jesse, come down here please,” she called up the stairs. There was a sound of thumping and the child appeared at the top of the stairwell. 

“Who are you? How’d you get in?” he demanded. He was a ballsy little kid, she gave him that. She clicked her tongue against her teeth and leaned against the banister, one hand coming forward, palm up. A flame leaped to life above her open hand, the tongues of flame licking at her skin but not burning. With a quick thought, the flame jumped from her hand and transformed into a bird, one that soared up and over to Jesse before disappearing in a shower of sparks right in front of him. 

“How did you do that?” he gasped, his large, child-like eyes even wider in surprise. 

“Come down here to the living room, I’ll tell you all about it.” she offered, moving away from the stairs before he had a chance to reply. Kore sat in a cushion chair in the living area and waited. And she didn’t have to wait long. Just a few moments after she sat down, she heard the paddle of small feet on the stairs and into the room. Jesse stepped cautiously around the far side of the room, watching her with hesitation. She gestured to the seat across from here. 

“Sit,” she said, “this is going to be a long and difficult conversation.” 

The kid sat in the seat farthest from her, his eyes watching her with interest. 

“How could you do that? Earlier with the fire?” he asked without the hesitation that still hovered around his frame. 

“I can do a great many things. That was more of a parlor trick than anything. Something to get you to believe me.” she hummed. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you need me to believe you? Why are you even here?” he demanded. Kore's lips twitched upwards. 

“I’m here for you, Jesse. I’m here to take you away.” Jesse’s eyes widened in horror.

“No! I won't let you!” he yelled, standing up from his seat in a rush and backing away. She could feel his power then, what once was an ambient flow of energy now condensing around his body, ready to lash out and strike. She raised an eyebrow. 

“Don't you want to know why before you go freaking out?” she asked calmly. Jesse seemed to think over this, his eyes darting between her and the door. 

“Why do you want to take me?” he questioned, looking at her with suspicion. 

“Because, Jesse, you are very powerful. And also very dangerous.” she stated simply. 

“Dangerous?! How am I dangerous?” he demanded, looking at her in offense. 

Kore hummed, her nails clicking on the arm of her chair in a rhythmic pattern. “You are what is called a Cambion. You are the son of a virgin, who was possessed by a demon throughout her pregnancy and delivery.” 

“That’s not right, my Mom and Dad would have told me if something like that happened.” 

“They are your parents, but they did not make you. Biologically, you belong to someone else.”

“You’re saying I'm adopted?” his face and voice were full of disbelief.

Kore nodded her head, “Think of it. You do not look like anyone on either of your parents' side of the family. They have no pictures of you the day you were born either. You were adopted after your biological Mother put you up for adoption.” she leaned forward, seeing the rejection in his eyes. “Think about it, really think about it. What do you share in common with your parents? You know you are different, Jesse. You just need to accept it.” 

The kid whimpered, tears forming in his eyes but refusing to fall. 

“Wh-why wouldn’t they tell me?” he asked, staring into her eyes as if all the answers to every question lay behind her irises. 

“Parents are weird,” she offered, her hand gesturing vaguely in the air. “They do what they think is right because they think they know better. I find that they are often wrong. They probably justified it to themselves, lied to themselves to say that you didn’t need to know, would never need to. Probably would have taken it to their graves even.” 

“So they lied to me?” a spark of anger caught in the child’s eye. “They would have continued to lie to me?” She shrugged. 

“Who knows? They didn’t know about the demon thing, by the way. But they did know you were different.” she offered. 

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever wondered why they leave you alone so much? Why they never let you go anywhere? Why they’re so distant and don't talk to you as much? They fear you because they know you are different.”  

“B-but I haven't done anything!” 

“Fear of the unknown isn’t rational. Humans naturally fear what they cannot understand. And that fear leads to cruelty most of the time. And thus, why your parents have begun to abandon you.” 

Jesse was openly crying now. Kore felt sympathy for the kid, though muted due to the… human bits. The humans didn’t deserve him anyway. 

“I’ve come to take you away, to a place you will not be alone anymore.” she offered, feeling awkward. 

“You- you said I was half demon?” he asked, wiping his tears away with his sleeve. She nodded. “Then what are you?” Kore blinked, surprised by the question.

“What makes you think I am not?”

“You’re too shiny.”

“Shiny?” she asked, bewildered.

“Yeah, you’ve got a shine around you. Like an aura or something.” Jesse informed her. Kore looked down at her hands for a glow of some sort but saw nothing. Her vessel was filled with grace, of course, and her true form spilled over and out of the body, but not in a way that was visible to the normal human eye. 

“Huh, I wasn’t expecting you to be able to see any of me. Humans can’t and most supernatural creatures can’t either” she remarked, looking back up at the child in curiosity. “But, yes, you are correct. I am not human. I am an angel.” 

“Like in the bible?” he questioned, previous sadness gone for now. 

“Kind of. That book gets more wrong than right.” she huffed. “I won't lie to you, Jesse. That book does name me, but not in a good way. And while some of the stories did happen, they did not happen how it was written.” 

Jesse frowned. “Mom said that the bible was the word of God and the truth.” 

“Truth is a big stretch. That book was written thousands of years ago by dudes who were either high or drunk. And it's out of order.” she scoffed. 

 “They were drunk?” Jesse giggled a bit, a small smile forming on his face. 

She snorted, “Yeah, let's just say that hearing the Word ain’t meant for human minds. So they had to inebriate themselves in order to hear any of it at all.” 

Jesse was quiet for a moment, deep in his mind. Kore let him think for the moment, knowing this was a lot of information to take in. He came forward and sat down in the chair again.

“You said the Bible had you in it. What’s your name?” he asked, slowly. 

Kore gave the kid a sardonic smile. “My name is Lucifer.” His eyes widened as he leaned forward. 

“Like the Devil?” he whispered. She hummed in affirmation. “It says you’re evil.” 

“It was written by the winners, of course, they are not going to paint their enemies in a good light.” 

“But your enemies were other angels and God.” 

“Eh, not really. It's a long story.” She waved him off. The kid’s jaw clenched as he looked at her in stubborn determination. Kore sighed a long breath. “Ok, fine I’ll tell you. I got sick, really sick. And that sickness infected my mind, still does at times, but I have a better handle on it now and I’m trying to find a cure.” 

His head tilted to the side, “Sickness? What could make an angel sick?”

“Long story short, my Dad has an older sister named Amara who hated all life other than my Dad. We locked her away, I was told to hold onto the key. But the key was evil and infected me.” Why was she telling him this? Why did she care to explain her Tragic Backstory to a child? A Cambion at that! 

“God has an older sister?” Jesse questioned, astounded. 

“Yeah, there are a whole world of things out there that exist beyond humans. You’ll learn about them.”

“Will you teach me?” He asked, his eyes lighting up. Kore held back a grimace. She… didn’t really plan this out beyond getting this kid out. She had no idea where to put him, who was going to care for him, etc. 

Well, shit.  

“Yeah, I’ll teach you.” she said, feeling weird about it. “But we need to go now.”

“Go where?” 

“Far away from here. You can’t stay with these humans any longer.” she said, surprisingly gentle. He looked at his feet and kicked at the floorboards. 

“Why not?” he whispered. 

“You are powerful, Jesse. And power like that attracts the wrong people. There is a war going on right now and you are in the middle of it, unfortunately.” 

“But I’m just a kid!” he whimpered, his eyes beginning to water again. 

“I know, Jesse. You don’t deserve this, but it is happening regardless. For your safety and the safety of your human parents, we must go.” she stood and walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I know this is hard, kid, but one day you will be strong enough that you can defend yourself and your loved ones from the bad people that come for your power.” She stood and held out her hand and smiled sadly at him,

“But today is not that day.” 

Later on, the Winchesters and their angel would come back to the house, with a demon hot on their heels. The home would be empty of all traces of a child, and the parents would claim to have never had one. It was like Jesse and his life simply disappeared . 

Into thin air. 

Chapter Text

Sam had returned to Dean shortly after his deal with Lucifer. He struggled with the decision to tell him, but ultimately decided to, his history of trusting the wrong person fresh in his mind. 

Dean had, predictably, flipped his shit. 

“What the FUCK, Sam?! Have you lost your goddamn mind? Did you learn nothing, NOTHING from Ruby?! What the fucking Hell is wrong with you?” Dean screeched, his hands slamming into the table as he stood over it. 

“The apocalypse isn’t happening Dean! And this gives us time, time we didn’t have before to find a solution to the angels and demons around. That and she agreed to help us.”

“No, Sam, she agreed to help after you convinced her. Not before! God FUCKING DAMNIT SAM! You don't go making a deal with the fucking Devil!” Dear roared, red in the face. In a fit of rage, Dean overturned the table, sending items flying and Sam scooting back in alarm. His eyes blazed with anger and his teeth ground loud enough that Sam could hear it. “She's got you in a fucking corner now and you’ll have to say yes! What's to stop her from not showing up the entire 6 months? Did you make any stipulations or contingencies to cover your ass?! Or did you just go into this with your head up your fucking ass?!” 

Sam felt shame in the face of Dean’s anger. He had been impulsive and reckless, drawn in by the sweet, honey-lure of redemption. He ached so fiercely to make things right that he had not seen the red flags through the rose-tinted glasses Lucifer had shoved on his face There was truth to Dean’s statement. His deal with Lucifer didn’t have any fail-safes or protections for himself, only a lot of loopholes for Lucifer to exploit with him as the prize. He suddenly felt very foolish. 

“I… I’m sorry, Dean. I thought I could fix it.” he admitted softly, his head hanging low in shame. The sound of Dean’s heavy breathing filled the room, slowly quieting as he calmed down. A hand laid on Sam’s shoulder after a moment. 

“We’ll figure it out.” 

For two weeks, Lucifer didn’t show. Anxiety crawled along his body like spiders, prickling his nerves and leaving him twitchy. He couldn’t help but think of the negatives. Maybe Dean had been right, that he had been tricked and now Lucifer had an easy route to him. 

He tried to distract himself with cases, and the one they were on now was certainly confusing enough. Children’s toys turned murder weapons with a kid in the center of it. Jesse didn’t seem to be aware of what he was doing even. They spoke to the biological mother, and she told them about his unusual birth and the demon who was apparently the kid’s other parent. 

The two brothers pull back into their hotel and head inside, stumped on what to do with this new information. Castiel was waiting for them. 

“I take it you got our message.” Sam said, tiredly, headed to the table. 

“It’s lucky you found the boy.” Cas replied. Dean scoffed from behind him. 

“I ain’t feelin’ lucky. What do we even do with him?” Dean spread his arms in a wide gesture before throwing his keys down on the counter. 

“Kill him.” The brothers looked at the angel in unison, both baffled by his blunt cruelty. “This child, he is half demon and half human. But he is far more powerful than either. He is a Cambion, you know him as the Antichrist.”

“Devil’s got a baby?” Dean questioned, giving the side eye to Sam. Neither brother had mentioned Sam’s deal to the angel yet. 

“No, of course not. Your Bible gets more wrong than it gets right. The Antichrist is not Lucifer’s child. He is just a demon spawn. But it is one of the Devil’s greatest weapons in the war against Heaven.” 

The conversation continued, and Sam tried to pay attention. But his mind drifted to Lucifer and the conversations they had. He didn’t know her well, and he knew she hated humanity with a passion. But he hoped, deep deep down, that she was a good enough person not to use a child in the war. 

Cas grew visibly agitated as they argued with him against killing Jesse, his voice growing angrier as they tried to come up with alternatives. 

“-he might make the right choice.” Sam pleaded his case, looking at the angel in earnestness. 

“ You didn’t.” Cas hissed, his eyes boring holes into Sam’s. “And I can’t take that chance.” He was gone in the next moment, leaving behind nothing but the sound of fluttering wings. 

“Shit” Sam hissed, turning around to Dean. Dean snatched the keys off the counter from where he threw them down, the two running to the Impala. The sound of tires squealed through the night as they peeled from the parking lot and towards Jesse’s home. 

They burst through the front door and looked around. Nothing was out of place other than a fearful looking Cas in the middle of the living room. 

“It’s gone.” he whispered, “I cannot sense it.” 

“What do you mean Jesse is gone?” Dean questioned urgently, walking forward towards Cas. 

“He has been taken by Lucifer. I can sense that she was here.” He looked around the room with a defeated expression. “She should not have been able to find him. His powers kept him hidden… unless…” Castiel’s eyes shot over to Sam with a sharp look. “Unless she was led here.”

Sam held up his arms in surrender. “I didn’t do anything! She can't find me with your sigils on my ribs. The last time I spoke with her in my dreams was weeks ago!” he informed, a desperate tone in his voice. Dean moved to stand between the two, looking at Castiel. 

“Sam wouldn’t do that.” he growled at the angel. “There must be another reason, she might have noticed the signs too.” 

Castiel looked over the two with a long, piercing stare. 

“Give me your phone, Sam.” Castiel said suddenly, his hand shooting out. Bewildered, Sam dug the device out of his hand and handed it over. With a quick move, the angel crushed the device in his hand like it was nothing. 

“Hey!” Sam shouted, stepping forward, only to pause at what he saw. A small, thin device sat in the middle of the crushed remains, a little red light blinking on it. 

“Shit, that’s a tracker.” Dean hissed, a hand moving up to run through his hair. 

“Yes, one no doubt planted on Sam at some point.” Cas crushed the tracker between his fingers, the light going out with it. 

The younger Winchester stood there for a long moment, staring at his crushed phone with shock. How did that get there? When did that get there? Had Lucifer planted it there or had someone else. Her presence here indicated that she was responsible, but why would she use human methods to track him? Why would she use anything human? 

She probably knew where he was this whole time, had been keeping track of him and watching his movements. Listening in, even. How would she know about Jesse otherwise? 

Sam felt the cold hand on dread grab at his insides and twist. 

“Why would she do that?” he whispered. 

“She no doubt resorted to other methods when finding you through normal means proved ineffective. She was one of Heaven’s greatest tacticians for a reason.” Cas was still looking down at the device, inspecting it thoroughly. “I will check your belongings for any more devices. This cannot happen again.” 

And with that he was gone, leaving behind two stunned brothers. 

“Hello, Sam.” 

Sam jerked from where he sat at a dinner booth. Looking around, he noticed Lucifer, who was wearing a new outfit again. It was a long, red sheath dress with leg slits all the way up to her rib cage. A criss-cross pattern of string was strung along the opening down to her hips, keeping the back and front sides together and giving a tantalizing peek at the sides of her breasts. A very puffy and soft looking fur boa sat along the crooks of her arms and along her back. She also wore quite a bit of jewelry as well: long dangling earrings, draped necklaces and enough rings on her fingers to start a jewelry store. 

She looked very out of place in the dingy dinner. 

“This is a dream.” Sam stated, looking around at the empty seats around them. Lucifer hummed in response. “You’ve been tracking me. We found three trackers, two in our bags and one in my phone.” 

A smile quirked the Devil’s lips. “Have to make sure you stay out of trouble.” he glared at her in response. She sighed and draped herself along the other booth seat. 

“I had to Sam,” she crooned, “You wouldn’t tell me where you were. And how could I make good on my deal to be a good girl if you weren't around to chaperone me?” 

“You could have kept coming to my dreams like you are doing now.” 

Lucifer blew a raspberry, “ Bor-ing. ” Sam glared over at her as she strode over to the booth and sat on the opposite side. 

“And speaking of, where have you been these past two weeks? You can’t skip out on the 6 months and expect me to say yes.” he snapped, fingers grinding into the tabletop. Lucifer rolled her eyes at him. 

“I wasn’t counting those two weeks, dumbass.” she snarked back. “I thought we already had this talk about making assumptions of my character. Now, are you going to ask me questions and communicate like an adult or are you going to keep flinging shit around like the hairless ape I think you are?” her lips pulled up in an inhuman sneer, her teeth a tad sharper looking than human. 

Sam huffed out a breath, “Fine, I’ll try to keep an open mind. No need to take pot shots.”

“Good,” She grumbled, slumping back into her seat and looking, for all instances, to be pouting. Sam was amused by this, how absurd the image in front of him looked compared to the Devil image his mind supplied. 

“You took Jesse,” he stated after a moment.

“Yes, what of it?” 

“What for?” 

Lucifer straightened her posture. “Why do you want to know?” she asked suspiciously, looking as if she was ready for him to start spouting off the worst of accusations. Sam felt a twinge of shame at this. 

“You said to ask questions. So that we can have a conversation like adults and so I can get to know the real you. Not what Heaven has told us.” he said quietly. She looked deep into his eyes, searching for a lie before she spoke next. 

“He is… asleep.” she finally informed him. “I asked him to come with me and he did of his own free will after I explained to him what he was and what was going on. I have him in a pocket dimension at the moment, in a time-stasis sleep until I can figure out where to put him and who is going to look after him.” Sam was intrigued. 

“Time-stasis sleep?” he asked, leaning forward. Lucifer hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Angels can affect time, can go forward and backwards. Archangel’s on the other hand, can do more with it than the common cherub or seraph. We can create spaces outside of time that can move faster or slower. We can make loops, where you can relive the same time over and over again, or completely different spaces where you branch off into another timeline, but those are tricky to maintain and always cut back to the time just before it was made when broken.” Sam really wished he had a pen and paper to write this down. 

“So like Groundhog Day?” Sam asked. 

“What’s that?” Lucifer asked, looking puzzled. Sam shook his head. 

“Never mind, go on. Time-Stasis?” 

“Yes, the Time-Stasis I put Jesse under will make it so that no time has passed for him when I remove him from the bubble. Think of it as a medically induced coma for both the mind and body.” she said, cupping her hands around to emphasize her point. 

“As a celestial being, I experience time differently. I can choose whether or not the experience it’s passage or I can condense years into one second. That is why the cage was so effective. Because it chained me to the timestream and forced me to experience it slowly.” 

“Then how come you don't slip out? Wait for all of this to pass by?” 

“My siblings can interfere with my experience as well. Michael specifically, as well as my younger two brothers to a lesser extent. It would put me at a tactical disadvantage to slip out of the stream, giving them time to plot against me while I have no time to form a counter.” 

“That makes sense. So why don’t you go back and change things?” Lucifer shook her head. 

“It wouldn’t work, at least not for this timeline.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Ok here, let me show you.” Lucifer waved her hand and a glowing line came to life, hovering over the table. “Say this is your time stream. Time doesn’t move forward and back like you think, its’ layers and layers of corresponding streams that branch out, all based on choices made at fixed points of time.” the glowing line split, pieces branching out until it formed what looked like a tree or river system.

“If I went back in time and changed something,” a little glowing figure appeared at the end of one line, she reached a finger out and moved the figure back to the starting point. “And change something, I wouldn’t be changing it for me.” At that point, the glowing line split again, and another river-like system branched out from the base, but going in a different direction. 

“You’d be changing it for the other you.” Sam finished, looking at the diagram in awe. Lucifer nodded. 

“Yes, so that when I come back to my present time.” she moved the figure over, back to the original end point. “Nothing has changed. It would take a truly magnificent force of power only God is capable of to truly change a timeline.”  

“Why doesn't he?” 

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at him. “I stopped asking that question a long time ago, Sam. Best to leave that ant-hill unturned.” Sam closed his mouth and nodded, seeing the warning in her eyes. 

“So what are your plans for Jesse?” he asked, getting back on the original topic. 

“I’m going to leave him asleep until I can secure him a place that is safe, with people who can protect and hide him without needing to seclude or smother him.” 

“We could take him to a hunter friend of mine.” Sam offered. 

“Bobby’s scrap yard would not be a good place to raise a kid.” Sam choked on his next words. 

“You… you know about Bobby’s place?” he stammered. Lucifer huffed in amusement, her bright red nails clicking on the table top. 

“Yes, I do. I also know that the protections on his property won't do shit against a full hoard of demons or a garrison of angels. Jesse could be taken easily, and no three humans are going to be able to stop it.” Sam opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off with a raised hand from Lucifer. “I know the three of you would try your hardest, but in some cases, like this one, you are outmatched and outgunned.” 

“We’ve survived this long.” Sam argued. 

“Yes, that is mostly in part of you being true vessels and some crazy dumb luck. Are you willing to roll the same dice for Jesse’s safety?” she asked, giving him a look. “Angels wont hesitate to smite him, Sam. Demons won't hesitate to take him and hurt him until his head is on so backwards he’ll kill whatever is in front of him just to make the pain stop.” 

Sam looked down at the table, his jaw clenching. He nodded his head shallowly in acceptance. An ice-cold hand was placed over his and Sam looked up into the Devil’s sympathetic gaze. 

“Worry not, Sam Winchester, Jesse is safe with me.” 

When Sam woke up, he told Dean what Lucifer had told him about Jesse. 

“I don’t like this, Sam. She’s got you by balls and now she’s got a kid with the power to nuke the angel right out of the sky. Doesn’t this whole sympathy for the Devil shit she got going stink to you?” Dean asked, looking him dead in the eye with a judgeful look. 

“I’m doing the best with what I have, Dean. We couldn’t take Jesse from her even if we tried, the best we can do is to convince her to not use him for anything. Or at least delay until we have another plan ready to go.”

“Like what, Sam?” 

“The Colt.” 

“The Colt is in demon hands, Bela saw to that.” 

“If we can find the demon that has it, we can get it back.” Sam insisted, moving to stand closer to Dean. “And then we’ll have a backup plan. The Colt can kill anything, we can use it against Lucifer when the 6 months is up.”

“Oh yeah? Before or after she wears your ass like an angel condom?” 

“Dean, come on .” 

Dean huffed a defeated breath and continued with packing his bags. 

“Bobby called, said he got a case for us. Pack up, we leave in 10.” 

The case was of people trading years with a witch. More people lost than won and Bobby and Dean were both unfortunately beaten out of 25 and 50 years respectively. Dean got Bobby’s back but not his own, and now looked like a guest star on the Golden Girls. 

Dean’s heart was failing, and Sam got cursed by the man-witch with gonorrhea. Fun times were being had all around. 

That night, after they got kicked out of the witch’s place and went back to the hotel, Sam took the couch so Dean and Bobby could have the beds. And he got another visit. 

“You looked pissed.” Lucifer pointed out from where she lounged. They were on a lake, in a small fishing boat now. Lucifer was still in her red dress and was laying on a pile of pillows, the late morning sun casting a golden glow on her pale features. Sam sat at the other end, wearing comfortable summer clothes and reclining along the padded edge of the boat. 

“Case is going south.” Sam bit out, turning his head away so she wouldn’t see his expression. 

“Tell me,” she offered softly, her smooth voice caressing his ears and soothing him down in an almost unnatural state of calm. He spilled the details of the case, Dean and Bobby both losing their years, Dean’s heart failing and how neither would let him play to get years back for his brother. He also told her about his frustration and fear of losing Dean again and how it was eating him up inside. 

The Devil sat patiently, only prompting him here and there to open him up more. 

“I’m sorry this is happening to you, Sam.” she said, a mournful look in her eyes. “You do not deserve the constant pain and trials you go through. But I am glad it is you.” 

Sam’s eyes snapped to hers, looking both confused and hurt. Lucifer sat forward and continued to speak. 

“I doubt any other human could go through what you do and still come out on the other end better than before. You are stronger, wiser and kinder in spite of your pain and you use it as a tool to help others instead of hurt them. You are unique in that sense.”

“Dean does the same.”

She leaned back in her seat. “In a sense, but not the same. See, Sam. Dean would burn the world down if anyone killed you. He’d slaughter innocents if it meant you’d come back.” 

“No he wouldn’t!” Sam yelled, anger stirring in his gut. 

“Uh, yeah he would, has actually.” Lucifer clicked her tongue, “His little demon-deal saw to that.” Sam shook his head, feeling like the air got punched out of him. “You don’t have to like it, but it’s the truth. Dean needs you to be good, not the other way around. Remember that.” 

“You’re wrong.” Sam said in a firm voice. Why did all of his conversations with Lucifer go this way? With her spitting words into his face and ripping his mind to pieces? Did she enjoy seeing his emotional turmoil? 

He heard the loud, audible sigh from across the boat and looked up to see Lucifer with her head thrown back, staring at the sky. 

“It’s hardly my fault you’ve deluded yourself so thoroughly. But if it pains you that much, I’ll hold off for now.” she said with exasperation. 

Sam growled, “Stay out of my head.” 

“Kind of hard to, you’re practically yelling at me.” 

“I don’t mean to.” he grumbled. Sam looked back over to her after a moment. “Are you going to help with the case?”

Lucifer smacked her lips in response. “Nah.” 

“Nah?” 

“You guys got a handle on it. And I ain’t a gun you can point and shoot at monster’s, Sam. Handle your own business and I’ll be there for the apocalyptic parts.” 

“Not even a hint?”

“Nope, can’t have you going soft with my help.” she grinned sharply at him. “I’ll step in If you die, of course. But you dying will send up a biiiiig ol’ shiny beacon to the rest of the family. Don’t want them on your ass, do you?” 

The hunter grumbled to himself at her words but accepted her answer. 

“So what now?” he asked.

Lucifer hummed, “I think that’s up to you. You’re the one who has to convince me of humanities’ good side after all.” 

“I can only show you myself in dreams.” 

“I guess you’ll be seeing me soon, then.” she grinned. And before Sam could take back what he said, she was gone. 

Kore slipped quietly into the hotel the three hunters were staying at. Sam had just stepped out and Dean and Bobby were having a heart-to-heart. Remaining invisible, she was forced to listen as the two hashed out their manly feelings. She waited until Dean finally left, a bag slung over his arm and a joke shot over his shoulder. 

With a thought, Kore materialized once again behind the older hunter. 

“Quite touching.” she remarked, off-handedly. Bobby jolted in surprise, twisting in his seat to try and see her. She walked around his chair before he could turn fully. 

“Who are you?” the man growled, hands slowly reaching for the gun in the side of his chair. 

“Sam says you are a rather smart one, so I’ll let you guess.” she hummed, leaning against the shitty linoleum table top. She grabbed an untouched drink from the fast-food the humans left behind and sipped on it. Ew, coke. 

Kore watched as the man looked her up and down, cataloging her appearance and dress. She could see the gears turning in his head and could see into his mind as he put the pieces together based on what Sam had described her as. 

“Lucifer.” He stated. She could feel the fear prickling under his skin, and anxiety and anger of her presence as she hummed in confirmation. His mind was cast to the Winchesters and her purpose of being here. “Why are you here?” 

“For you, of course.” she declared. 

“Why me? I ain’t of use to you.” he growled, his hand finally reaching his gun but not removing it from its holder. 

“No, you are not.” she affirmed, her head tilting as she observed the human in front of her. She could see his soul just under the edges of his body. It was bright, Heaven-bound for certain, but stained with depression and guilt along the edges. That would be wiped clean once he entered the Hallowed Halls. There were scars here and there, marks of true heartache that fractured the soul like glass but made it more beautiful as the soul’s light caught on the edges and cast dazzling rainbow colors along the smaller pieces. 

She could see one growing now, a fracture that sat on the surface, but was slowly carving its way down into the soul in front of her. 

“But you mean a great deal to Sam,” she continued. “And I am rather invested in him.” 

“Hurtin’ me ain’t gonna win you no points with him.” he snarled, his gun finally raising towards her. Kore gave him an indulgent smile. 

“No, but healing you might,” she said. Bobby gaped up at her from his chair, his eyes widening at her words. His gun dropped to his lap as his arm went limp. His mouth opened and closed but no sound came out, she could feel the tentative hope coming from him. 

“And what are you askin’ in return.” he bit out, his soul shivering under her intense gaze. She leaned down into his space, her hands coming up to cup the sides of the human’s face. Her mouth parting into a wide, inhuman smile. 

“ Not a damn thing.”  

With a twist of grace, she dug inside the human’s body. Her grace burned away the lesser angel’s hold on the man’s injury and wiped it away before mending the spinal cord and the atrophy the legs had developed until the man was as good as new. Better than before even, since she scrubbed his liver, heart and kidneys as well. 

Stepping back, Kore made a show of dusting off her hands. “There we go,” she hummed, “Why don’t you go ahead and stand now, hm?” 

With a bated breath, Bobby Singer rose on shaky feet and took his first steps in months. 

Kore pointedly ignored the choked breathing of the overwhelmed man, picking through the fast-food on the table and stuffing some fries in her face. They were cold and gross but that was reversed with a thought. 

Bobby stumbled to the door and out, towards the parking lot where Dean stood. Kore watched from the door as Dean finally caught sight of the older man and shouted, running to him and clasping his arms to the others. 

“Bobby! Oh my God, Bobby you’re standing!” Dean yelled, looking Bobby up and down in delight. “Did the chips work?” 

“Well, not exactly.” Bobby admitted, turning his head back to the hotel. Dean looked up and locked eyes with her. His eyes widened comically at her appearance and confusion clouded his thoughts as he tried to figure out who the ‘ scantily-clad broad ’ was. 

With a wink and a cheeky wave, Kore disappeared before their eyes. 

Chapter Text

Ribbagoth didn’t know much in life. He was a lesser demon and was made in Hell, and Hell didn’t exactly have an education system. 

He did however, know these things:

1. Master was scary. 
2. Master liked frogs and toads.
3. Master liked Ribbagoth and treated him nicely. 

In that order. 

Ribbagoth was resting on his pillow. It was a very comfortable pillow, in a very comfortable room.

Ribbagoth was rather pleased with his current position. As scary as it had been at first, it had paid off in the end and he was now the official ‘lap-dog’ or ‘pet’ of Master. He did not mind one bit. He was safe, comfortable, and Master fed him fudge and other human delights from her very own fingers. She also protected him from other demons and Ribbagoth was put “ In Charge ” while she was away. He knew the other demons, especially Master’s generals, balked at the thought of a lesser demon like him ordering them about. But they feared Master more than their pride held them. 

Master did not expect him to lead, of course. He was put in place as more of a figurehead than anything, someone to keep the other demons from fighting amongst themselves for power while she was away. He did not mind, the other demons may threaten and hiss at him but Master would protect him. Master killed a few demons already who tried to hurt him. Their pain had been brutal and loud, their dead, disfigured vessels had been hung in the main foyer with messages detailing how others would end up if they touched what belonged to Master. 

Ribbagoth liked Master. 

A cold hand reached out and pet the ridges along his back, and a croaky purr rumbled from his lumpy body. Turning in his pillow, Ribbagoth exposed his smooth belly to the hand and got a set of perfectly manicured nails giving him a light scratch in all the right places. 

Master gave the best pets. She also squished him often, but she did that more when she was feeling things greatly or thinking hard. She often plotted with him between her hands, molding his body this way and that as her eyes stared over maps, charts and sigils. He did not mind, it did not hurt or feel uncomfortable. Ribbagoth was happy he could help his Master. 

“I need a team, three demons, to Pure Eco Environmental NPO. They are dumping shit in one of my favorite rivers and I’m pissed.” Master spoke into a small box she held to her ear. Ribbagoth could feel the irritation in the air around her. “Yeah and those assholes’ profit margins are way too fucking high. ‘Non-Profit’ my ass. Get one in the CEO at least, we’ll fill up more in other areas depending on what we find.” 

Master hung up the phone. With an annoyed hum, she picked him up and sat him in her lap, her eyes never leaving the large glowing boxes in front of her. Two hands kneaded at his back, rolling his flesh under their fingers and squishing. 

Master was frustrated, and maybe nervous from what he could sense. But what could one as powerful as Master be nervous about? Ribbagoth continued his croaky purr, hoping to sooth his Master’s ruffled feathers. 

“I don’t know if I should go or not. Might make things worse. Might make them better. I don’t know.” She mumbled. Master did this often, using Ribbagoth as a sounding board. Thankfully, she did not expect him to respond. Or speak at all for that matter, which was more than fine with him. 

“It’s been so long. What if he hates me?” she squeezed harder, smushing her hands together in his body and making his other ends grow a bit more in size due to the shift in mass. “What do I even say? Sorry? Let's kiss and make up? Let by-gone rebellions be by-gones?” She huffed loudly, leaning her head against the back of the chair. 

Ribbagoth felt his body shift back into its normal size and shape. He blinked his large eyes and gave a loud croak, his chin inflating. As he hoped, Master poked and prodded at his infrared chin, patting it like a drum until it deflated. He did it again and again, with the same results. The air was a little less heavy after, and Ribbagoth was glad. He turned over in Master’s hands and fell asleep. 

Sam was rather fed up. This whole TV land thing was getting old quick and he was getting angry. He had been the one to suggest they team up with the Trickster, but even he was starting to get pissed enough to just stab the damn thing before asking. The genital herpes commercial kind of settled it for him. 

It was when they were stuck on some sort of reality TV of their life when things started to… click . 

Castiel had come in, looking bloody and haggard, his eyes wide in panic. 

“I got out,” Cas said, stepping towards them. 

“From where?” Dean asked. 

“Listen to me,” Cas implored, ignoring Dean’s question. “Something is not right. This thing is much more powerful than it should be.”

“What thing? The Trickster?” 

“If it is a Trickster.” 

Oh ,

Oh shit . 

Sam thought in depth of what he knew of the Trickster’s power, namely, the ones used on him during the Mystery Spot. Time loop, separate timeline that went back to the original day after broken, reality warping. It was scarily similar to someone else's power:

Lucifer, who was an Archangel. Lucifer, who had three siblings. 

Shiiiiiiittttt

Cas was sent flying back into the wall, and Sam was quick to clear his thoughts about his new revelation. Lucifer could read his mind, he didn’t doubt this one could do the same.

With a wave of his fingers, the Trickster sent Cas away. Sam stared at the shorter man-shaped creature in front of them and tried not to panic as Dean got in his face and yelled about them playing their roles. 

“Play your roles out there .” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Dean questioned, looking at the shorter man with confusion and no small amount of contempt. 

“Oh you know,” the Trickster waved off, “ Sam , starring as Lucifer. Dean , starring as Michael. Your celebrity deathmatch! Play your roles .”

“You want us to say yes? Why?” Sam spoke up, his mind racing. Why would this… one ( don't think, don't think about it ) want the apocalypse. She never spoke about her siblings other than the oldest . But he knew there were two more. Raphael guarded the prophet. So this had to be the last one, the youngest. 

“ Hells yeah, let's light this candle!” 

And he was not a good one, apparently. 

“Well it’s not happening, either way. Sorry to burst your dreams.” Sam hissed. The Trickster gave him a patronizing look. 

“You think you can stop it? You think you wont say yes to Lucifer?” 

“Jokes on you, Trickster,” he hissed, rage pooling in his gut and behind his eyes. “Even if I do say yes, it’s still not happening!” 

“What, because Dean won't say yes?” the other scoffed. “He’ll dive for the sword the moment that three letter word passes your lips.” 

“NO! Because Lucifer won't fight!” he yelled. Sam was surprised by his own conviction, but he believed his words. The Trickster was quiet for a long moment, looking at him with a piercing gaze. 

“Lucifer tell you that?” he asked, eyes never leaving him. Sam nodded, feeling like a bug under a microscope. “They were lying.” 

“No they weren't.” 

“They are the Father of Lies, Sam. It’s in the paperwork. I don't know what sob story they cooked up, but they’ll say anything to get you to say yes. 

“She- she told me she had been sick.” should he even be saying this? Was it in his rights to say this? “Told me something called the Darkness had infected her and caused her pain so bad it drove her insane.” 

The Trickster looked gutted as Sam spoke, an oddly raw expression for someone who had been on and off torturing him for the last few years. So Sam continued. 

“She said she had a mark, and the mark leaked the Darkness into her and made it so painful she couldn’t think. She said it was only after she got it off and was in the cage that she began to heal from it. She said she is still healing from it but she doesn’t want the apocalypse or to hurt any of the angels. She just wants to be left alone.” 

Sam looked over at Dean, desperate for backup. 

“Yeah, he’s right.” Dean continued. “She even offered to help us stop all the apocalypse shit from the demon side.” 

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. 

“Oh yeah?” the shorter man sneered, his face twisting into something inhuman and terrifying. “Tell that to the demon hoards currently under her command right now.” 

“What?” Sam asked, flabbergasted. 

“Oh you didn’t know? Good ol’ Luce got thousands of demons walking the earth right now in meat suits doing her dirty work.” 

“How do you know they are hers?” Sam shot back, disbelieving. 

“She marked them, of course. They all bear a mark of her powers, which other beings can sense.” 

Sam was shocked and… hurt. Surprisingly hurt. This new information made him question so many things. If Lucifer didn’t want the apocalypse, why was she commanding a demon army on Earth? Why keep it from him? Was she really lying this whole time? 

“That doesn’t prove anything.” he said, haltingly. 

The trickster looked at him with pity. “She’s good at what she does, Sam. Why do you think so many angels fell when she did? She could charm the skin off your bones and leave you feeling pleased about it.” 

Sam didn’t doubt that. His eyes stared at the floor as he cycled through everything Lucifer had told him, their interactions and her actions. 

She had healed Bobby, with no price attached. but she had a hoard of demons on Earth for who knows what. She said she didn’t want the apocalypse, but she was the Devil and was in Hell for eons. No one escaped Hell unscathed. There was her history, her fall. But also her corruption from the Darkness. 

He didn’t know what to trust. 

“Help us stop it,” he asked, looking at the trickster desperately. 

The other looked at him sadly, “No can do. Just give in. Say yes. It’ll be a lot easier for you if you do.” 

Sam knew stabbing the Trickster with a wooden stake wouldn’t work. But he did it anyway. It didn’t hurt him, but it sure felt good. 

He should have seen it coming, but he just didn’t expect to get turned into a car. Having tires instead of feet was weird. 

Sam was able to slip Dean his suspicions and they were able to lay a trap for the angel-turned-Trickster. The expression on his face when they did was thunderous. 

“Where did I mess up?” He asked, looking over both hunters in question. 

“You didn’t,” Sam said, “Lucifer told me about her powers. They lined up a lot with what you’ve been doing to us.”

“And the way you spoke about Armageddon.” Dean continued. “No one gets that pissed unless they’re talking about their own family.” The angel glared at the two of them, but didn’t deny it. 

“So which are you?” Sam questioned. “There are four Archangels, we know three so.” Sam pointed to him. “You’re the one that disappeared.” 

“Gabriel,” he bit out, the tongues of fire casting eerie shadows across his face. “That’s what they call me.”

“How does an Archangel become a Trickster?” Dean asked. Gabriel sneered out his story: skipping out on heaven and becoming a pagan to hide. Until they ruined it of course. 

“Can blame you, your siblings are either douches or batshit insane.” Dean snarked to the shorter man. Gabriel growled, a low deep thing that rattled the rafters and sent dust down on the three of them. 

“You better shut your fucking cake hole, Dean Michael Winchester.” he hissed. “I loved them: my father, brothers and sisters. Loved them more than you can imagine. But watching them tear into each other? Kill each other? I couldn’t bear it!” his voice grew into a yell. “And now it's happening all over again thanks to you!” 

There was a sound of thunder, so loud and deep it rattled Sam’s bones. The ground trembled under their feet and the smell of ozone hung strongly in the air. 

Between one moment and the next, Lucifer appeared between the brothers, facing Gabriel. The tremors stilled and the thunder quieted, all was still as the three looked at the new arrival. 

“Lucifer,” Sam stuttered, shocked and a little afraid. She was wearing her sparkly pants suit again and was staring at the other angel with a blank look on her face. This was the first time Sam has seen her in person, not in dreams. He almost wanted to reach out and touch her, to see if she was real. Dean, who was on the other side of her, looked down at her in alarm and weariness. 

Dean’s stance on Lucifer had softened, somewhat, after she had healed Bobby. He was less vocal about her evil-ness when they discussed the apocalypse and their plans. Didn’t mean he liked her any. 

Finally, Lucifer tore her eyes from Gabriel and looked up to Sam. “You’ve been missing for a week. You didn’t sleep that entire time so I suspected something was happening.” she said, evenly. Sam’s eyes darted between her and Gabriel, who was ghostly pale and standing as still as a statue. 

“Uh, yeah.” he said, dumbly. 

Lucifer hummed in response and turned back to her brother. “You two should go, I’ll finish up here.”

Dean visibly hesitated. “Nah, I think we should stay,” he stated, eyes darting between the two angels. Lucifer turned to him, an amused glint in her eyes. 

“I’m not going to hurt him, Dean.” she said. He shifted under her gaze, looking uncomfortable. 

“Well, you wanna talk about the apocalypse… Sam and I are on the chessboard so we should be aware of what's going on.” he said haltedly, as if weighing every word on the pain of life or death. 

“I’m not here to talk about the apocalypse.” she said, striding forward. Her gaze traveled downward to the circle of fire. With a flick of her wrist, the ground under the fire shook and shifted, the dirt rolling over on itself until the flames were extinguished. 

She walked tentatively forward to Gabriel, who was staring at her with a mixed look of apprehension and anger. A small hand reached out and skimmed a warmer cheek before cupping it. Both brothers could hear the intake of breath from Gabriel. 

“I…” Lucifer’s voice shook. “I’m so sorry .” 

Kore was a wreck. She knew she was, embraced it even at times. Embracing it now hurt. 

But seeing Gabriel hurt worse. 

He was just as she remembered, small and more golden than the sun. His once laughing eyes were creased with sadness and she ached, knowing she was the cause. He looked at her with such caution, his wings tightening around his form in defensiveness. It broke her heart. 

She reached out, her hand touching his cheek. She could feel his grace roll under the surface of his skin, backing away from her touch. Her voice broke as she apologized, but she could feel his grace still. 

With a broken step, she moved forward, her arms clasping around his vessel and her wings curling around his form in a tight, desperate hug. Tears ran down her vessel’s face and her true form leaked tears as well as she grieved. Her insides felt torn to pieces as she was confronted by one of the many consequences of her actions. She might have been sick, she might have been insane, but it had been her hands that shed blood. It was her hands that had torn through the Host with nothing in mind other than her own vengeance. 

“I'm so- I’m so sorry!” she said again, her face buried in her kin’s chest. She let her grace bleed her true emotions, baring herself to him in a sign of both submission and offering.

Look, look at me and see what I am. See what I feel.  

With a tentative brush, Gabriel’s grace brushed against hers and wrapped around her offering. 

Both of their vessel’s eyes glowed brightly as they communed, an ancient sharing between angels that she had not felt since long before her Fall. 

She laid herself bare for her kin: the one she loved and lost and hurt. 

Kore had missed him so much. 

She read him in turn. His pain, his sorrow, and loneliness. He left heaven, unable to bear the loss of love and light. He fit into the pagans and carved a name for himself. He became Loki, he had children and had loved and lost as mortals have. He loved humanity and all the bad that came with it. But he yearned for home and family like the ache of a missing limb. 

I'm here. I'm here. I'm here. Please don’t go. Please, I’m sorry.  

Her grace twined with his, begging and pleading for him to stay. She was tired. She didn’t want to be alone. Please don't leave me alone . 

I wont I wont. Please stay. Please be ok.  

Kore cried, sobs ripping up her throat as Gabriel fully embraced her, forgiveness shining in his grace, more beautiful to her than anything in creation. She clung to him, their true forms wrapping around each other in tight knots as they communed and felt each other for the first time in eons. 

Kore didn’t care for anything right now; not the apocalypse, not Michael, her Father, or even the awkward humans standing not far away. She only cared that Gabriel was in her arms and loved her just the same as always. 

Chapter Text

Sam had not expected… this. This was… awkward and emotional and it made him surprisingly uncomfortable. 

Watching two archangels hug and cry into each other’s shoulders was not how he expected his day to go.

A part of him felt like he was violating something sacred, and another part of him felt so thrown by these beings… these Others showing such human emotions. He felt like the Earth had shifted him into a liminal space, where reality was off just enough for him to notice. 

Seeing the Devil cry also made him feel conflicted. She had cried in front of him once before, but then it had felt more like tears of anger or frustration. This was raw and sad, desperate even, and it was not something he expected her to be capable of. 

Sam felt Dean shift next to him. He looked over to see a deeply uncomfortable look on his brother’s face. Their eyes met, and Sam knew that Dean regretted insisting on staying. They shared a long look, before turning back, resolving to stick out the unfortunate situation. 

They, however, were not given the chance. As soon as they turned back, the two archangels disappeared with the sound of flapping wings, and Castiel was unceremoniously dumped on his ass onto the dirty floor. 

The seraph looked up at them with a gob smacked expression. 

“What happened?” he asked, his voice matching his expression. 

“Cas, I’d like to know the same damn thing.” 

Kore and Gabriel disappeared for a while. They spoke, in length, about many things. Arguments were had, tears were shed, but in the end they came together as strong as ever. 

“So what is your plan?” Gabriel asked, curled up against her side. Kore shrugged. 

“Honestly I’m flying by the seat of my pants here. Main goal is to get this vessel fortified to the teeth so I don't spontaneously combust. Ditch the apocalypse and find a way to live peacefully.” 

“Are you planning on asking Sam to say yes?” 

“Kinda, I got a plan in the works to woo him into helping me fix up this vessel. I’m quite fond of it.” She said, patting her chest. Gabriel snorted, curling further into her side. Her wings flexed, the feathers splaying and laying over the smaller angel like a blanket. She could feel the happiness radiating off of him like the rays of the sun. She was content to bask in it, his elation warming her cold grace. 

“How’d you come by it?” he asked, his eyes at half mast. 

“There was a convent.” 

“ Ooo Fun .” 

Kore snorted, “Yeah, they were more a rapey cult using it as a cover. Disgusting assholes had been assaulting the young nuns. My vessel tried to tell one of the higher ups what had happened to her. She was burned at the stake for it. They claimed her to be a demon lover and Satanist.”

“Yeesh.” 

She hummed in agreement. “Indeed. She called for someone to save her. With how she was dying, it lent her body power.”

“The false prophet curse?” 

“The very one. I was able to get her to say yes, then I destroyed everyone within the building and burned it to the foundations.” 

“You have a penchant for dramatic entrances I’ve noticed.” 

“It’s a gift.” 

“So how’s being a pagan going for you?” 

“Some good times, some bad. Got married and had kids.” Gabriel said, looking up at her cautiously. 

“Like the Norse myths say? Doin’ some hanky panky with the local wildlife?” 

“They got my kids' names right and that’s about it.” he laughed, relaxing after her non-aggressive response. 

“Are any of them angelic?” 

“Nah, took after their mother, my grace certainly boosted their power, but without a soul to latch onto and no way to re-energize itself, the grace faded away before they were born.” 

“Tell me about them?” 

Gabriel sighed, “Well I have six kids-”

“ Whore .” 

“Shut the fuck up, Satan. As I was saying, I have six kids. Hel, Fenrir, Jormigander, Sleipnir, Narfi and Vali, in that order. All but Vali and Narfi are still alive.” 

“What happened?” Kore asked gently. Gabriel was quiet for a moment before telling her the story of a mortal, who wished for revenge on a Norse god who had killed someone dear to him. Gabriel, who had gone by Loki, in the ‘spirit’ of fairness had given the mortal a weapon that could kill him. But the mortal had mistakenly killed a similar-looking god, Baldr. Odin had blamed Loki for it and took it out on his children. He cursed Vali first into the form of a rabid wolf, who had then killed Nari. Odin had next slaughtered Vali and, using his son's own entrails, had bound Loki to a rock deep within a cave. Due to some very powerful magic, he was unable to break the bindings and Odin was free to harm his other children, locking them away. 

Gabriel was able to escape eventually and searched for his children. He freed all but Hel, who was bound so deeply to the underworld she could not leave it. 

“She rules over Helheim now, and seems to enjoy it. So I’m not completely ‘spare over it. I can even visit.” he said, eyes studying a dip in the wall with deep focus. Kore pulled him closer to her side, her head resting on top of his. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” she said, her hands soothing over his back and wings in a calming gesture. 

Gabriel huffed, a bitter note in his voice as he spoke next. “It’s never fun to see your family hurt.” Kore kissed his curls. 

“I know.”

“It still hurts. I can feel it, the sickness in my body. It's like a fiery acid in my veins that consumes me and the flames are only doused in blood. It's… hard to control.”

“How has it been since being out?”

“Difficult. At least in the Cage, I had no one to hurt other than myself. Out here it’s… it’s like living in a world made of tissue paper. It’s so hard to keep control of myself and not-” a fist clenched in the air for emphasis, “-crush everything.” 

“You get used to it, having a vessel, I mean. Once you get a few more years under your belt it’ll be like piloting another set of wings.” 

“How long did it take you?”

“Eh, a few years. This body is a little more robust than others.” 

“I noticed it isn’t from your vessel bloodline.”

“Oh yeah, I couldn't go to that line without someone noticing. Got this one off a dying god, back in the Mesopotamia era. About six thousand years ago. Had to fix it up a bit over time. Had to change everything about it visually, too, after joining the Norse pantheon. But I’ve been wearing different vessels since I got down here.” 

“When was that exactly?” 

“Uhhhh, Three hundred thousand-ish years ago? Roughly?” 

“And I’ve been in the Cage topside-time for about six million.”

“Yeah… um I know time in Hell runs a little faster… uh. How long was it… for you?”

“... a long time. Even by our standards.”

“Ouch...” 

“...Yeah.”

“What’s your plan? For the corruption?”

“Manage it for now, and then try to get it out.”

“Any ideas on how?” 

“None so far. If you think of something, I’m all ears.” 

“ No .” 

“Oh come ooon . Don’t be a wuss.”

“I’m hardly a wuss if I refuse to go into your - your den of iniquity!” 

“It’s a club, not an orgy.” 

“It might as well be! For all the - urgh - fluids going around.” 

“A little spit makes the Devil scared?”

“You know as well as I how many germs and other pathogens are transferred through saliva alone! Human mouths are disgusting!” 

“Sounds like your scaarredd~” 

“Scared isn’t the word I would use. Disgusted would be more appropriate.”

“Wow, I’m shocked that the Devil herself is unwilling to get a little down and sinful . Someone should tell your little ass-snogging demon subjects their Mommy ain't a good role model.”

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking pagan cum dumpster!”

“Ooooh! You’re spicy when uncomfortable!” 

“Shut UP!” 

“Ok ok ok, I’ll take us to a place a little more your speed. We’ll work our way up to my ‘Den of Iniquity.’ sounds good?” 

“...fine.” 

“Gabriel this is a fucking Chuck E Cheese.” 

Gabriel’s roaring laughter could be heard clear across the parking lot. 

“I hate you.”

“Oh I know, honey.”

“I hate you.” 

“Love you, too, Boo. Now pass me that skeeball, I’m about to win us that giant teddy bear.” 

Later that night, Kore and Gabriel walked away from Chuck E Cheese, both wearing matching mouse shirts and numerous glow stick bracelets and necklaces. Kore carried a monstrously large stuffed bear in both arms. 

“You are such a cheat.” Kore laughed, fixing her grip on the bear. “There was no way you had that many tickets.”

“Of course I didn't. This place is fucking rigged to give as few tickets possible for every win.” he snarked back. She snorted and rolled her eyes. In spite of the degrading atmosphere of a child’s play place, she had a good time. Her and Gabriel had played every game, and, at one highlight of the evening, had crawled through the tubes chasing one another. 

It had been a grand time, and Kore was happier than she remembered being in a long long time. 

Ribbagoth had a very full few days. Master had left for an undetermined amount of time and left him in charge. Her generals were handling things, but Ribbagoth liked to sit in the main auditorium room and remind them all of his presence. He was the favored one after all. 

The toad demon admired the bloodstained walls and stink of sulfur that permeated the auditorium room where a large group of demons gathered frequently. Some of the demons had a habit of bringing home their kills and piling them in the corner, or wearing them home before depositing them there. As long as they were discreet, the Master would not care. Ribbagoth had greedily amassed a small collection of his favorite bones. The stink of sin that radiated from them spoke clearly of the damned souls that once inhabited them, no doubt suffering in Hell at that very moment, being turned into Master’s new minions. 

“Willingness, willingness is key our Lord says,” a hissed voice was heard. Ribbagoth looked curiously over to see a serpentine demon wearing a vessel speak. “We need willing humans to perform the ritual.” 

“Can we not possess them? We are more than willing.” another demon gurgled. 

“No,” the serpent one said from the face of a man, the human’s body contorting in odd shapes. Bones snapped and skin stretched as the serpent twisted its body from within the human. “Our Lord needs virgin blood* for the ritual to work.” The demons hissed and clicked at each other, throwing ideas back and forth on how to acquire Master’s needs. 

The ritual they spoke of was the one Master needed to make her vessel whole. Ribbagoth wondered how different his Master would feel once the spell was complete. At the moment, Master’s vessel could barely contain them. She limited her power output to lessen the strain but he could see the strained edges. He wondered what would happen, should this vessel fail. Would she truly take the younger Winchester as a vessel? 

He knew that if he waited, and listened, he would find out.

Ribbagoth had been sleeping in the office when Master returned from her business. His two large eyes blinked slowly and sleepily in the darkness as he laid on his back, his little legs in the air and face smooshed into the pillow he was on. A hand reached out and petted his smooth belly, nails scratching lightly. He purred, the glowing stripes along his back casting a light glow on Master’s pale features. 

He was scooped up into her arms, his body settling into the crook of her elbows. She continued to pet him as she walked around the office. She spoke softly to him in a language he didn’t know. He knew the words were not meant for him, but she sounded happy, which Ribbagoth liked. He felt her settle onto the couch near the windows, her body curling into the corner seat. One eye rolled in her direction and Ribbagoth noted that Master was peering down at him, but the glazed look in her eyes showed that her mind was a million miles away. 

The Supernatural convention was all kinds of weird. And it freaked Sam out. Less said about it the better.

Lucifer still hadn’t shown in his dreams for the past few nights, so when Sam suddenly found himself in a more lucid dream, he became suspicious. He was in a small camp in the middle of the woods at night, a small tent stood behind him and a fire crackled with life to his front. He was sitting on a cut log, bundled with flannel to keep the, supposed, chill out. 

“Lucifer?” he called out, looking around. A feminine humm came from darkness directly to his front. 

“You are getting good at detecting me in your mind, Sam. Your soul is beginning to recognize me already.” Lucifer said lightly, stepping out from the shadows. Her outfit was something he’d never seen the style of before. A pair of high-waisted latex pants, and a latex crop top that exposes a generous amount of the underside of her breasts. Silver chains looped across her chest and down her front in long, dangling loops. 

“You really like your chains.” He commented lightly, looking her up and down. Lucifer was attractive, no denying it. He pulled his eyes away, not wanting to be caught looking. 

“It matches my aesthetic,” Lucifer responded, humor coloring her voice. Perhaps she had noticed his stare? Sam felt a mortified blush raise on his cheeks. He forced himself to look up at her, but found her gaze was on her own nails, picking at them idly. 

“Dungeon dominatrix is your look?” his eyebrow raised high, his tone light and even a bit teasing. 

Lucifer huffed out a laugh, her eyes meeting his. “I have a reputation to keep. Plus my boobs look fantastic." She patted one with a cheeky smirk. Sam snorted in reply, shaking his head. 

“So… Gabriel?” he ventured, looking up at her curiously. Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “How’d that go?” 

“Better than expected, if I’m honest.” she replied. “Gabriel was always the one who wore his heart on his sleeve. The kindest of the four of us. The fighting hit him hard.” 

Sam leaned back against a tree, his feet close to the fire. 

“We’ve tangled with Gabriel in the past, and if he’s the nicest of the four of you…” he trailed off, giving her a look. Lucifer chuckled lightly. 

“We were made before the stars were born and this universe was formed, our version of kind and gentleness is different from yours.” She said, Sam leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with interest. 

“What was it like? Before everything?” he asked, his mind racing with questions. She was there before the world was made, she had knowledge and memories of things that he could scarcely comprehend. And now she was here, sitting in front of him and seemingly willing to humor his questions. 

“Beautiful.” she replied. “Quiet and peaceful. There was nothing but the 6 of us for a long long time and we merged and lived as one.” her eyes were glazed over as she spoke, a fond tone in her voice. “We were a part of each other in ways no human language could describe. And the light of my siblings mixing with the light of my Father and the darkness of His sister was the most magnificent thing to behold.” 

She looked at Sam then, her eyes sharpening back into focus. 

“It was beautiful.” she repeated. 

“And after?” he prodded. 

Lucifer smiled, “Even more so. Creation in its purest form. When my Father began to create this universe it was exciting and wonderful. Every moment there was something new to look at and explore. Atoms and elements colliding and forming planets and clouds of stars, galaxies made of fire and ice and comets the size of suns and moons. Father made such beautiful things. Me and my siblings would sit and watch a star’s life from start to finish like you would watch a movie.” her voice was so wistful and yearning that it hurt. 

“That sounds amazing.” he said softly, giving a smile to match. 

“It really was.” she hummed. Sam chewed on his lips, wanting to ask questions but not wanting to break the tender quiet that had formed. 

“And… What about Earth?” he asked. 

“Hmm. Earth is beautiful, truly one of Father’s finest creations in my opinion.” 

“What’s your favorite part?”

“The sunsets. The colors the sky turns when the sun goes down is just… exquisite to me. I could stare at a million sunsets and no one would be identical. Truly gorgeous.” 

“I like them as well.” he said dumbly, not knowing how to respond. He hasn’t had a conversation like this in awhile, he was feeling rather rusty. Lucifer seemed to notice his awkwardness by the amused curl to her lips. 

He licked his lips, not knowing what to say. The two sat in silence for a long moment, just enjoying the fire and quiet company. 

“What’s heaven like?” he asked, breaking the silence. 

“I can’t say I know that anymore. Haven't been up there since humanity was made. But from what I heard it’s a shit show masquerading as paradise.” she snorted, leaning back on her hands and staring sardonically into the fire.

Sam grimaced, remembering what happened with Cas and Anna. 

“What about, you know, before?” he said, lamely. Lucifer raised her eyebrow at him. 

“You mean before my nosedive?” she said, flatly. 

“Uh.. yeah?” 

“It was nice.” was all she said, staring at him hard. It was very clear that she was done sharing. Sam took it with a nod, not wanting to push his luck. 

“Where are you now?” she asked suddenly, her glare lessened. Sam grabbed onto the change of topic like a lifeline. 

“Well, me and Dean are at a psych ward at the moment, hunting a wraith.” 

“It's the nurse.” she said very suddenly, looking amused. Sam balked. 

“What?” 

“It’s the nurse, the one that checked you in.” she repeated. 

“Are you watching us?” Sam asked, anger tingeing his tone. He didn’t like the thought of anyone spying on them, and the thought of her spying on them made the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He might believe that she didn’t want the apocalypse, but it didn’t mean she was a good person. 

Lucifer smirked, “I have to keep an eye on what’s mine, Sam.” 

Sam growled, incensed. “I don't belong to you.” Lucifer clicked her tongue at him. 

“Prophecy says otherwise, Sam.” she hummed, looking amused. 

“A prophecy you refuse to participate in, hence, it should hold no weight for you.” He grouched, his hand pointing in her direction for emphasis. 

“That is true, but you are still my vessel. My glass slipper.” 

“That reminds me, you’ve been gone for weeks, again .”

Lucifer let out a long, put upon sigh. “Yes yes, I won't count it to our 6 month deal.” 

“And the demons? Gabriel told us you are currently in command of thousands of demons.” Sam accused, looking at her. 

“You literally told me to control the demons. So I am. Make up your fucking mind.” she growled. Sam… felt foolish. He had said that. 

“So- so what are they doing on Earth?” he asked, sheepishly. 

“Mainly gathering me intel on humanity. And possessing some CEOs and such to get them to stop dropping their filthy human waste into my Father’s creation.” she sneered. 

“Possessing people is wrong .”

“They are only possessing people who are destined for Hell, Sam. I made that very clear to them.” she said, leaning back and inspecting her nails, clearly done with this conversation. But Sam wasn’t.

“What are your plans for them after they are done ‘gathering intel on humans’?” he said, emphasizing his last words. She looked back up at him, annoyed. 

“I don’t know yet. Kill them, keep them, cure them, banish them back to hell, i don't fucking know.” 

Sam’s brain stalled. 

“Cure them?” he asked. 

“Yeah?” she replied, drawing out the word. 

“What does that mean?”

“You know,” she flapped her hand around, “shoo away the evil and leave the soul behind.” 

“You’re saying you can cure a demon and make it into a human soul again?” Sam’s eyes were wide with astonishment. 

“I could, If I knew how.” she shrugged, looking vaguely uncomfortable at his expression. 

“You don’t know how?”

“It wouldn’t be hard to figure out. Trial and error, throw them in some holy water.” a mischievous grin sprung to life on her face. “Boil the hell out of them.” she looked like she was one bad pun away from doing the finger guns at him. 

“I can see the family resemblance between you and Gabriel now,” Sam deadpans. 

Lucifer gave him a larger grin, her eyes sparkling. Sam liked how it looked on her. 

Chapter Text

Kore breathed deeply, her eyes closed. Her breath puffed in the air, the cold temperature creating a fog. The room was freezing; ice crawled up the windows and walls, glasses once filled with an assortment of drinks were now solid, and the floors, tables and other flat surfaces were covered in a fine layer of frost. 

The cold was a stark contrast to the fire that blazed through Kore, oozing and hissing through her veins like acid. She breathed in deeply again as it flared up, her teeth grinding against the pain. 

She knew what would make it better, what would make it stop . But she refused, pushing away the thought of blood on her face and bones crunching under her hands. She refused to lose control. 

She felt it as her vessel flexed and contorted under her grace. Flesh bulged out, skin peeled away to reveal charred, rotting meat, bones liquidized and her eyes boiled in their sockets. She furiously repaired her vessel as it fell apart around her. 

Her toad croaked nervously from the other side of the room where she had told him to stay put. She longed to squish him between her hands and feel the strangely satisfying sensation of his rubbery flesh squished between her fingers. But she knew she would only hurt him in this state, and she didn’t desire to replace him. 

Kore ignored him, seething in anger at her lack of control over herself. 

She waited. And waited. And waited. 

The burning acid slowly dulled into a manageable ache and Kore was able to slowly stitch her vessel back together. 

She needed Sam’s blood, and soon. 

Kore turned her head from side to side, the bones in her neck cracking. With a calm look on her face, she waltzed out of her office and down to the lower floors of her building. 

She purred and petted her hands along the demons she passed, causing them to go into a frenzy as she did. Like bees to their queen, they swarmed behind her as she walked, the dark cloud writhing behind her like a storm. She brushed them off as she reached the lowest levels, dismissing them back to their duties. 

Kore then stepped into her dungeon. 

Hooks and chains hung from the ceiling, many carrying the decomposing bodies of her demon’s victims. Half dried blood was splattered around, and a pile of gore sat in the corner awaiting disposal. Tools of pain and dismemberment lined the walls, hanging from pegs and rusty nails. The scent was rather putrid and Kore sent a small tendril of grace out to keep it from clinging to her. 

Putting on a syrupy sweet smile, she walked over to the subject of her presence. A man, gagged, naked and tied to a metal table that was inclined at a partial degree. He was old, scared shitless, and one of the most aggravating things she had ever seen. 

“Oh Frank Begular, CEO of one of the biggest oil industries in the world.” she pulled a notepad out from thin air. 

“Tisk tisk, you got your 10 years and now the bill is due. But you made quite an impact didn’t you?” she hummed and began to read off the notepad. “Deforestation, fracking, oil spills that were never cleaned. And you,” she poked him with the edge of the notepad, “Are responsible for the endangerment of quite a few beach-nesting seabirds. What did you say? ‘Who cares about a few rats with wings’?” 

She leaned forward into his space until she was less than an inch away. “I care.” she hissed. “I happen to care very much.”

The man tried talking behind his gag and Kore stared at him with a flat face, pulling back. 

There was a low hum from beneath her breast bone, one that grew louder and louder. Kore grinned savagely and opened her mouth.

There were beetles and bugs, centipedes and millipedes, ants and spiders and locusts. They flew and crawled and skittered their way from her mouth and down, moving quickly towards the thrashing man. She watched with pleasure as they invaded every one of his orfraces. In his ears, nose and mouth. Even the corners of his eyes and quite a few through his penis and anus. They devoured him slowly, munching away at his soft tissues and nerves and causing him to howl in agony. Kore held him to his body for a long moment after he would have naturally died, letting him feel the last bits of agony before finally releasing him. 

The soul shuddered in her hand. It was by far not the best soul she had seen. It was dim and fractured, with a dark, inky corona that wriggled against her hand like slime. Her face pulled into a disgusted sneer and she stuffed the soul into a silver talisman that she quickly vanished back to her main office. 

She waltzed out of the dungeon, the acid cool and calm under her skin. 

Lucifer’s information had proved correct, the nurse was the wraith. He and Dean had taken it out very quickly and were out of the ward within the day.  

She visited his dreams every night, chatting with him about random things. She was interesting to listen to. Her stories about the universe were captivating and her knowledge was vast. Sam spent much of their time together asking questions about everything he could think of. 

Sam found himself, begrudgingly , liking Lucifer. 

He didn’t, however, expect to see her in person so soon. 

It had been a week or so since she had begun visiting his dreams after the Gabriel thing, and he and Dean were helping out their old babysitter with a poltergeist problem. And then he woke up, in the body of a kid. With an overbearing family attached and noodles for arms. Sam quietly mourned his lack of upper body strength. 

And now he was here, tied up in a basement with two absolute morons of kids.

Sam groaned loudly, his head thunking onto the wood support beam as he tilted his head back. This was not how he wanted the day to go. 

“Kill Dean? How do you even know who Dean is?” he asked the boy, whatever his name is. 

“Dean? He’s Hell’s most wanted.” the kid said smugly. Sam bit back another groan. 

“You’ve been talking to demons? You’re so stupid,” he stated, his voice breathy from shock. “ So fucking stupid .” 

“Look,” he shifted as best he could in his bonds, glaring into the eyes of the girl, who seemed the most sensible of the two. “I’ve seen what demons can do. I’ve seen them rip apart children and eat them . They destroy and kill for fun, they won't give you what you want.” 

The boy scoffed, “Demons make deals all the time, don't listen to this loser. He’d say anything to get us to let him go.” 

“They only make deals for a soul! And yours are already destined for hell if you keep on this path so they have no incentive to give you anything!” Sam yelled, “They’ll just kill you.” The girl was looking at him with wide, frightened eyes. She turned to the other kid and the two bickered for a moment. Sam watched helplessly as the boy began to summon a demon, calling it to them without laying even a salt line for protection. 

The girl was possessed as soon as the last word was spoken. 

Kore sucked on her teeth, looking at the demon in front of her with furrowed eyes. 

“Say that again, slowly .” 

“Uh, we have Sam Winchester?” the demon squeaked. Kore's eye twitched. Thunder rumbled outside in the distance and the sky darkened. 

“And why do you have Sam Winchester when I explicitly told all of you to stay away from him? ” she hissed, her red eyes glowing dangerously in the light. Her grip tightened on the demon’s neck, the bones grinding under her fist and pulling a muffled yell from it. She loosened her hold just enough for the creature to speak. 

“Humans… summoned! Summoned me… to achk him!” the demon choked. She dragged it closer to her face. 

“Where?” she seethed. 

The demon stuttered out the location and Kore was there . Thunder clapped again overhead, the sky's darkening in her new location. 

There was a screech and her eyes snapped over to two human children who were now cowering against the wall, demon magic slinking along the edges of their souls. Her eyes then turned to the third child, who was tied up against a beam and whose soul was very much not a child’s. 

“Samuel.” she hissed, a possessive and sinister purr lowering her voice. 

“Lucifer.” the hunter replied, his soul appearing to relax at her presence.

How interesting . 

“Why are you in a child’s body?” she grunted, looking over the scrawny thing with a critical eye. “If you were so unhappy with it, you should have given it to me.” 

“I didn’t,” Sam griped, his scowl twisting the baby face. “I got body swapped with a spell." 

Kore hummed, her eyes narrowing on the two kids against the wall. 

"And where is your body?" 

"I don't know," Sam replied with a sigh, "the kid that I'm wearing is in my body running around somewhere. They plan on killing Dean." 

She snorted, "That's fucking stupid. The angels would just resurrect him." 

Snapping out her free hand, she summoned the male child into her. Fingers closed around the fabric of his shirt, lifting him into the air. 

“Where are they?” she growled, her voice low and inhuman. The child squeaked in fear, blurting out the name of a hotel. She dropped the child, who scooted back to the wall next to the female. 

Kore looked back to the demon in her grasp, her grip loosening. “My child,” she crooned, brushing one of her hands over the feathered mass of malice, “Go retrieve them for me and bring the two humans to me.” the demon shivered with glee at her words, eyes turning from fear to giddiness. 

“Yes, my Lord.” it simpered before disappearing. 

Dean appeared in the room with a squawk, landing on his ass. The child wearing Sam’s body fared no better. Kore growled, annoyed as fuck. 

“I have so much better things to be doing than this.” she hissed, mostly to herself. She grabbed Sam’s body by the scruff, causing him to yelp and start struggling. 

“Dude, fucking stop it.” Sam, the real one, snapped at the boy in his body. He didn’t listen, and continued to lash out at Kore with his fists and feet. His hand connected to her face with a sickening crunch, her body like stone under his fragile human fingers. He screeched, cradling his hand as the other children yelled and screamed at her. Kore felt her eye twitch at their caterwauling. 

Sam’s head connected with a thunk against the pillar he was tied to, exasperation clear on his current body’s face. 

“Sam,” she said blandly, staring at him. His soul fluttered under her gaze.

“Lucifer, don't hurt them. They’re just kids, just stupid kids.” 

Kore rolled her eyes long and hard, “I had no intention of hurting them.” she glanced at the sniveling child within Sam’s vessel. “They seem to be doing that just fine on their own.”  

Stepping over Sam's vessel, she came to the pillar where he was tied. With a flick of her fingers, he was free and standing, stretching out his sore muscles. 

“The rest is on you. Try not to get freaky friday’ed again, hm?” she said, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at him. 

“Uh, yeah.” Sam replied, still rather frazzled by how quickly things changed. Kore sniffed pointedly in his direction, her eyes narrowing. 

“I will see you tonight.” she stated, before flying away.

“Well that was dumb,” Kore huffed, sitting down heavily in her chair. She pulled up her tracking program and took note. There was the one on their car that they had missed in initially, but Kore had been able to slip a few back into both Sam and Dean’s phones. But these ones were covered in sigils that would keep her pesky younger sibling from spotting them so easily again. 

Kore drummed her fingers against the edge of her desk, her long nails clicking against the hard surface. 

She had to plan for tonight when she would meet with Sam, this time in person rather than his dreams. And she needed to make her next steps in getting him to trust her.

Kore closed her eyes and leaned back, concentrating on her vessel. She focused inwards on her pituitary gland, and increased the output of Oxytocin. She smirked to herself as her vessel responded. With the increase in hormones, she could manipulate Sam's reactions towards her. His body would respond based on his own physical chemistry and he'd be 'allured' by her. He would crave closeness to her and would come to trust her more quickly. 

However, Kore had failed to realize something crucial in her manipulative plotting. Due to her prolonged separation from humanity, she had failed to think on what further emotions Oxytocin encouraged. That was her fault. 

Kore showed up at the hotel that Dean and Sam were staying at that night. Dean was in the shower and Sam was sitting at a table with his laptop out. He jumped at the sound of her wings and jerked his head towards her. 

“Lucifer!” he called, eyes wide.

Kore arched an eyebrow. “Don’t look so surprised, I told you I was coming.” 

Sam scowled, “Should I even ask how you found me this time?” Kore smirked in response, giving him a saucy wink. The chains on her outfit clicked as she strode forward, planting herself a hair's breadth away from Sam. His eyes shifted warily between each of hers, giving her a quick once over as if to check for weapons. She grinned and leaned forward into his space, stirring the air around them and wafting her increased pheromones towards him. The height difference meant she didn’t have to lean far, which brought her some amusement. 

She could see the slight motion in Sam’s throat as he gulped at her proximity, the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge as his instincts recognized the threat she was. It gave her a low thrill that she squashed down, she was actively trying to make Sam like her. She had plenty of others she could torment. 

“So Sam, are you ready?” she hummed, staring him down. 

“Uh, ready for what?” he questioned, leaning back away from her. 

“To show me the ‘Wonders’ of humanity, of course.” she said sarcastically, standing back up and putting finger quotations around ‘wonders’. Sam scowled once again at her. A very common occurrence. 

“Fine.” he grumbled, pushing his seat back to stand. Dean stepped out of the bathroom at that moment, towel along his hips. 

“ Jesus Christ! ” Dean yelled, jumping back into the bathroom and slamming the door to conserve his modesty. “Fucking Goddamnit ! Warn a man!” he shouted through the door

“Nice ass, Winchester!” Kore called loudly, a hand cupped around her mouth. The bathroom door creaked open just a tad and a hand poked out, flipping her off. Her lips quirked up in a smirk and she looked back at Sam, gesturing to the door. 

“Shall we?”

Sam was truly at a loss. He had not prepared for Lucifer’s arrival, thinking that she had been forewarning him of her dream walking, not showing up to his motel room. 

He rubbed his sternum, thinking about the sigils on his ribs and how they were seemingly ineffective to Lucifer, which was uncomfortable to think about. He had Castiel check over them and he had seen no change to them. Sam had been on the receiving end of his piercing, bird-like stare for a while after that. 

Lucifer acted more human than most angels Sam and Dean had encountered. She fidgeted and adjusted her stance, rubbed at her nose and clicked her nails against each other at random times. Her facial expressions were vivid and expressive, a far cry from the stone chiseled expressions that the others had shown. Sam wondered how she became so comfortable in her vessel, and how she gained human mannerisms. Especially since she had been locked in the cage for so long. 

He didn’t bring up these insights to her or even to Dean, willing to wait it out and see for himself as the night progressed. 

However, back on topic. He didn’t know what to do. It was like those moments when you’re in school, and all words evaporate instantly from your mind the moment that you are called on by the teacher to answer a question. And an easy question at that. 

So Sam followed the call of nature, and took Satan out to dinner. 

Lucifer looked vaguely amused as he drove her into the restaurant parking lot. It was a local noodle place that advertised ramen and other Chinese foods. She didn’t say anything as they walked in, staring at the menu with an intensity that surprised Sam. 

When it was their turn to order, Lucifer surprised him yet again by speaking to the cashier in what he assumed was fluent Chinese. The cashier looked very surprised and then delighted, speaking to her rapid fire. 

Lucifer replied with a smile, gesturing her hands as she spoke and waving to Sam a few times before handing over a card.

“How do you know Chinese?” He asked after they got their food.

“It was Mandarin, Sam. And, as an angel, I know all languages.” She replied, sitting down in the booth with her tray of food. Sam thought it looked particularly large for what she had ordered. 

“How does that work?”

Lucifer grabbed her chopsticks and looped some of her spicy ramen, her eyes focused on her task as she spoke. “Words hold intent, and any intent is derived from our soul. So when a human or another being speaks or writes, they put out that energy, that intent, into the universe. And since I am one with the universe, in a way I cannot possibly dumb down for a human, I can understand it.” She then slurped up a big bite of ramen, the noodles hanging from her lips until she sucked them in. she made a ‘mmm’ noise and quickly picked up another bite. 

Sam picked up his chopsticks and began to eat the ramen Lucifer had ordered for him, using much less messy and smaller bites than Lucifer’s. His ramen was less spicy than hers, but had pork belly, sprouts and an egg. It tasted really good and Sam was content to eat in silence for a while as he collected his thoughts. 

“You were nice to her.” he finally blurted out. Lucifer looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, her mouth still full of noodles. “The cashier.”

“So?” Lucifer grumbled, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she chewed. 

“Why? I thought you hated humans?” he asked. 

Lucifer finished her bite and pulled her hand back down and began shifting her noodles around with her chopsticks. “You’re species as a whole is disgusting to me. The fighting and hatred and pollution. Disgusting. However, the individual,” she pointed at him with the chopsticks, “can be different. Her soul tells me a story and I see no darkness in it. So I don't feel it necessary to be a dick 24/7.” 

“You can tell if someone did something bad by their soul?”

Lucifer took a big bite of a sausage and nodded.

“How?” Sam asked, completely fascinated. She heaved out a big sigh and leaned back into her seat.

“Ok this is a complicated explanation so eat up while I speak and save your questions for the end, got it?” she said, giving him, what he was coming to call, her signature expression. The high arched eyebrow and squinted eye, the ‘Are you stupid’ look. Sam nodded and began to eat in earnest, his eyes never leaving hers, as if looking away for a moment would lose him precious information. 

“Alright then, so. I can see souls and essences, all the internal bits and bobs of every being. I can do this because I can see into almost every dimensional plane of existence. Physical, metaphysical, astral, celestial, cosmic, excetera excetera.” She waved her hand around. “Anyway, your soul is on the spiritual plane of existence and Archangels and other powerful entities are able to see into this plane. Lesser angels cannot, it requires a special set of eyes that our Father gave us in the beginning.” she tapped her face, just under her eyes, to emphasize her point. 

“Now souls are powerful, just their intent can make crazy things pop into resistance, like your pagans deities and elemental spirits. Enough humans believed in them that the energy congregated and collapsed, forming a being with consciousness and power but bound by those human’s beliefs.

And so, souls are constantly affecting the world around them, but that also means that the world can affect them as well. Intention, action, and effect.” she held up her three fingers. 

“Intention: If a human goes out into the world with intention to harm or help that intention is imprinted on them. Say someone goes out to hurt another person who hurt them, no matter the reason or cause, the pain they intend to cause leaves a mark on their soul.”

Lucifer lowered one of her fingers.

“Action: a human’s action can also cause stains, no matter the reason. If a person goes out and say… kicks someone. That is a stain on their soul. Even unintentional actions, like accidents, can cause stains.”

“But that doesn’t-” Sam tried to cut in but was shushed by Lucifer. 

“No! No talking or questions till the end!” she gave him a wide-eyed intense stare, as if trying to glue his mouth shut with will alone. Sam huffed and nodded. Lucifer held up one final finger.

“Now. Effect. The most important of the three. Someone can have the best intentions but end up hurting someone else. A person’s effect on others outcomes has the biggest impact on the soul. 

“Say you intend to help someone whose job is overworking them, so you go to the boss and tell them to lighten the load. But, in the end, the boss lets that person go instead. Your intention was positive, your action was neutral, but your effect is negative. The effect weighs higher than the other two because it is the most long term.” 

Sam nodded slowly along, taking a drink of his broth. 

“Now, the effects on the soul from these can vary. For example, you and your brother’s souls are so bright because your intention is good, your actions bad, but your effect is overall good.”

“We aren’t doing bad things!” Sam protested, feeling offended. Lucifer shook her head. 

“Killing is killing, no matter the creature, human or monster. It is considered a negative, no matter how good your intention.” Sam frowned heavily, feeling a weight settle into his gut. 

“However, your effect, the lives you save that would have previously been extinguished, weigh positively on your soul.” 

Sam looked down at his almost empty noodles, he shuffled around the broth with his chopsticks as he thought. 

“I don't like killing, but I don’t have a choice.” he mumbled. 

“I’m not saying what you did was a bad thing, Sam. But in the objective eyes of the universe, no life is worth more than another.” she said softly.

“Even humans?” he snapped acidically, “Even you ?”

Her soft expression melted off her face to something cold and distant. Sam tried to feel bad about it but was still tender from her information. 

She stood and her noodles and tray vanished. 

“Till next time, Sam.” she said flatly, and disappeared. 

Sam tried not to feel disappointed. 

Chapter Text

Lucifer continued to show up every night that week. She wore elaborate outfits that puzzled him but made her feel just that much more otherworldly. 

She came in, trailing the scent of stars and black cherries, carrying a presence that weighed on his shoulders and chest. Shooting him sly smirks and hitting him with her dry wit. 

And Sam?

Sam was going insane. That was the only explanation for it. 

Every time Lucifer showed up it was like a magnet was pulling from his sternum in her direction. His eyes traced her movements, and his hands twitched with the desire to reach out. 

Sam was hyper aware of the pads of his fingers, imagining how her cool skin would feel under them. Tracing the curve of her cheek and the folds of her eyelids, over her full lashes, down the bridge of her nose, down to-

He was going insane. 

Sam had poured over spells and rituals, hoping to find anything to clean off whatever Lucifer had cast on him to draw him towards her. He ground herbs and chanted Latin cleansing spells until hoarse and tired. Nothing changed. 

His eyes followed her from across the room. He cursed Lucifer’s tendency to wear revealing clothing, it gave his mind plenty of fuel for the fire. 

Sam found himself taking things… into his own hands more often than before. In the shower he gripped himself firmly, trying so hard not to think about cold skin and small, delicate looking hands. But it was futile. She crept along his consciousness like a disease, infecting every part of his mind until she was all he could think about. His hands ached to reach out and grab, dig his fingers and palms into flesh and pull. His teeth ached behind his lips, a primal part of him screaming out to dig his teeth into something and hold . 

Sam's hands tightened into a white knuckle grip against the book he held, his mind coming back from his daydreaming. His teeth grit as he noticed the small, unconscious motions his hips had been making in his seat. 

Lucifer was driving him crazy. 

Sam slammed his book onto the table with a little more force than necessary, causing the Librarian to give him a dirty look. 

He refused to give into whatever ploy she had going, refused to think of the Devil in such a manner. 

Rubbing his face hard with both hands, Sam stood from the seat and left the library. 

Kore was having a lovely day. Gabriel had been visiting her in her office space and complained loudly the whole time about the demon stench below until she had thrown a pillow at his face to get him to shut up. 

“Ugh, so cruel, sister of mine.” Gabriel moaned from where he lay knocked on the floor. 

“Stop being so damn annoying, you little shit.” Kore groused, tapping away at her computer. She shot off some emails to her demon generals, asking for their weekly status updates on their current assignments. Ribbagoth sat in her lap, his eyes closed and croaking softly every now and then. 

She folded her fingers in front of her, staring intently at the spreadsheet she just pulled up that detailed the ranks of demons under her direct command and their correct assignments. 

Due to the handy dandy google, the spreadsheet was shared between her generals and updated in live time by their assistants. 

She took quick note of a group of demons that were currently idle and sent an email to their General assigning them to some reconnaissance on some humans she had been meaning to check in on. 

A pillow hit her on the side of the head and she turned to glare at the impish perpetrator. 

“Stop being boring and come have some fun with me.” Gabriel groaned, sitting up and leaning back onto his hands. 

Kore sighed, “Ok, what did you have in mind?” 

Gabriel grinned, and she was scared. 

“CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG!” the voices screamed all around her. Kore laughed as she continued to hold Gabriel’s legs as he did a handstand over the beer keg. 

The music was loud and the humans dancing around her seemed to be more on the clean side than the previous locations Gabriel had tried to coerce her into. 

Gabriel’s way of coercing her into liking humans wasn’t working, but she was having fun.

They were on a boat, a rather large and expensive looking one. There were around 30 humans there. The music was loud and the food was good enough for her to stay without complaining much. 

Speaking of . 

Kore let go of Gabriel’s legs, leaving him to handstand by himself over the keg. He was a big boy and could handle it. Waltzing over to the food table, Kore snapped up some more finger food and ate them quickly. There was a wonderful chocolate mousse that she liked in particular. 

Gabriel hobbled over next to her, his cheeks flush. She raised an eyebrow. 

“How can you be drunk off of that yak piss?” she asked snootily. He grinned at her and pulled a flask out from his inner pocket and popped the lid, letting her take a whiff. Kore scrunched her nose at the smell of alcohol and magic. 

“Asgardian mead, enough to knock even our socks off in large enough quantities.” he snickered, he held out the flask for her to take. Grabbing it, Kore stared at it for a long moment before shrugging her shoulders and throwing back a mouthful. 

Alcohol, as sweet and smooth as honey and cream, slid down her throat, leaving behind a pleasant burn that radiated from her sternum out to the rest of her body in slow waves. 

“Oh wow. ” she said, blinking her eyes open and shut a few times. 

“I know right? Hits you right in the gut.” Gabriel laughed, his head thrown back and his eyes sparkling. Kore watched him fondly for a moment before stuffing a too-large pastry puff in his open mouth and laughing as he gagged on it. He grumbled at her, his words muffled and incomprehensible around the food. 

The two stood and chatted for a while, talking about mundane, useless things and enjoying themselves. But not for long. 

Kore watched as a tall man wearing a pink polo and cargo shorts threw his beer can into the ocean. Her left eye twitched. Her hands clenched. Her face split into a pleasant smile. 

“That’s not where that goes,” she said, syrupy sweet to the man. “Trash goes in the receptacle, but aluminum is recycled.” 

“Pff, who cares about one can. It aint a big deal, lady.” he snorted, looking down his nose at her. Her eye twitched again.

“Oh yeah? Then go get it.” she smiled sinisterly. Before he could say another word, Kore grabbed the stupid human by the front of his shirt and hauled him overboard into the ocean. 

“I'm surprised you’re not yelling at me.”

“Why would I yell at you?”

“I threw a human into the ocean. Don’t you have like… a huge hard on for humanity?”

“Pfff! I may love humanity, but that doesn’t mean that individuals can be fucking dicks. Teaching assholes like that a lesson is just another day for me.”

“Oh yeah, the whole trickster slash just-deserts thing you got going on.” 

“Making assholes pay for their crimes can be very fun.”

“Oh, do show, brother dearest~”

“So you like deforesting the rainforest for profit, huh???”

“ Please have mercy !” 

“Go Luce!! Woodchipper! Woodchipper! Woodchipper!”

“ Please! Oh god no! ”

“God ain't here asshole! Just like those tropical animals and plants whose habitats you destroyed!” 

“Mulch his ass girl!”

“ AHHHH- ” BRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGKKKKK!

“Bone pulp is a good source of calcium for plants, you know. My bonsai tree needed a little pick-me-up.”

“Girl, you are fucking terrifying. I love it. ” 

Kore visited Sam every day at least once. He’d take her to get food, which was smart of him if she was honest. Sam seemed to have picked up on her love for food, even delivering quite the zinger about gluttony once which had made her laugh loud and honestly. 

Sam continued to pick her brain about different topics, debating all sorts of things ranging from philosophy to ethics to the perception of reality. 

“So human perception shapes things?”

“To an extent. It ties in with the power of belief. Humanity can form entirely new entities on the power of belief alone. That was one thing that Father gave to humanity that he didn’t give to the rest of his creations.”

“Are you upset about that?”

“No, I find no particular inclination to go around creating new creatures.”

“But you did create the demons.”

“I reshaped a soul into a demon, it’s different. Not a true creation.”

“Oh, I see.” 

Sam was endlessly fascinated by her. And she liked it. It made a warm little glow flare up within her, leaving her looking forward to their nightly rendezvous. 

They had their differing opinions, obviously. But Kore believed that Sam was coming to understand her better than most, and she was rather pleased by it. 

Of course, things do tend to happen. 

Introducing Lucifer and Castiel happened by accident, and it wasn’t pretty. Cas must have assumed that Lucifer had found them and captured them because he came in swigging. 

It was one of the rare times that Lucifer and Dean were in the same room, instead of Sam taking her out to view humanity up close. The two got along alarmingly well; their sass, sarcasm, and wiggling eyebrows molding around one another's instead of clashing. Sam was kind of scared for his continued sanity if the two truly became friends. 

One moment Lucifer and Dean were nagging at each other while Sam sighed deeply from the table, the next, Lucifer was standing right next to Dean, her hand clasped firmly around the lower arm of Castiel, who seemed to have been trying to grab Dean and bolt. 

“Hello, little brother.” Lucifer hummed, her face a low, heated mask of threat and promise. 

“Cas wait-” Dean called, but it was too late. Cas lashed out with his other hand, angel blade glinting in the low light of the lamps. Lucifer moves fluidly, bending backwards and allowing the sword to jab the empty air where her head had been. She continued with the movement, her hands coming back into a semi hand-stand, her legs then kicking up and smashing into Cas’s chest, sending him flying through the wall.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

People screamed and car alarms blared loudly outside, continuing even after the building stopped shaking and debris stopped flying, Sam walked cautiously over to the giant, human-sized hole in the wall. The holes continued until they reached the outside of the far side of the building, and a giant rut was in the ground. 

“Cas!” Dean yelled, running through the openings and outside. 

“Well that was rude.” Sam’s head whipped around to see Lucifer, who was pouting. 

“Lucifer! You can’t just throw people through walls!”

“Uhm, yes I can.” she crossed her arms over her chest, “Especially when they try to s tab me, Sam .” she emphasized, leaning forward and glaring at him. 

“It wouldn’t have killed you!” 

“Ohhh I see. So if I come at you with a needle you’d just let me stab you in the face with it?” 

“No! That’s not the same!”

“What? Because it’s me ?” she scowled

“That’s not what I meant.” Sam protested angrily, his jaw clenching. 

“Oh yeah? Then how is it any different, hm?” taunting voice, hands on her hips and a challenging look in her eyes. Sam wanted to grab her and shake her. Or pin her down and make her listen. 

“You’re more powerful.”

“So I'm supposed to always be the bigger person? Allow everyone to shoot their shots at me because it ‘ Won't kill me .’” She used finger quotes to emphasize her words. 

“You’re twisting my words.” he seethed, stepping closer. His hands ached to reach out and grab . His fingers flexed from where they were clenched at his sides. 

“Then explain them to me,” she hissed darkly, stepping closer to him, bringing them chest to chest. Or.. chest to head which their height difference. Even with his height, Sam could feel her looming presence all around him, could taste the stars and ozone of her anger on the back of his tongue. He breathed in deeply, feeling his body electrify at her close presence. 

He felt so left footed in her presence, his brain scrambled for words as his body lit up, hairs standing on the back of his neck and arms. 

Sam shook his head, trying to dispel the feeling, and stepped back out of her space. 

“There were other ways you could have handled that,” he said, his voice low with forced calm. Lucifer’s face pinched together before smoothing out. 

Shrugging a shoulder, the angel hummed. “Perhaps, but the same could be said for him.”

“Agree to disagree,” he bit out between clenched teeth. Lucifer scoffed.

“You can’t blame him for freaking out.” he continued, “He doesn’t know about your changed opinions yet.”

“So I give him a free pass because he can’t get his head out of heaven's ass and form his own opinions?”

“You still want humanity dead! I don't think their opinion is very far off base!” 

Lucifer looked honest-to-god hurt by his words. It made him want to take them back, almost, but not quite. 

He watched her jaw clenched hard, “I don’t want humanity dead, I just won't try to save it.” she bit out. 

“I don’t see how that’s any different.” he said, his teeth hurting as he spoke, almost like his very body was trying to warn him off. 

“Its completely different,” she hissed.

“You control legions of demons who terrorize the earth, you have the power to stop them and you don't! Your apathy is allowing bad things to happen.”

“We’ve had this conversation before Sam! I am not responsible for their actions.”

“Yes you are! They are here because of you ! They are evil because of you ! All the bad shit they do is because of you !” The lights flickered around the room but Sam continued, a deep rage burning in his heart. “All those people who died by their hands was because of you, my Mom, my Dad, Jess, They’d be alive if it wasn’t for YOU !” he felt the heat of his words, like a fire behind his teeth spewing forward. There was a truth to his words; a dark, deep bitter truth that weighed on his sternum that he had always felt but only just noticed. 

He wanted to like her. 

But how could he?  

How could he when she was the focal point of all his suffering?

Chapter Text

CH 14

Kore stood in the dark. 

Quiet.

Unmoving. 

Her red eyes were the only point light, and cast a low, dull glow on her upper cheeks. She stared at nothing, saw nothing, did nothing. 

‘ If it wasn’t for you ’

Sam’s words hammered around in her head. 

Why did it bother her what he said? Why did she care? 

He was just a human, a human that she needed something from, and who she was manipulating to get it. Why did his words sting her so deeply?

Maybe it was because of how he had looked at her during their moments together, when they would sit, eat and talk. He would ask questions about the universe and she answered. He looked at her with fascination and eagerness. It felt good. 

But Sam saw her as evil. The boogieman in the closet, the monster under the bed, the reason his family was dead. 

And maybe she indirectly was, but truly, all of the deaths he had listed, she had not been present or even topside for. She knew Sam was being irrational, and that his outburst was probably from pent up stress, but what he said still burned and he believed strongly in what he had said. Words hurt, but the fact that he thought so lowly of her stung more than she expected. 

She decided, for now, to stay away from Sam. She’d have to find another way to reinforce her vessel. Perhaps Gabriel could help her. 

Kore sighed out a breath, and the lights came back on. 

Far away, Sam sat on the hood of an old truck in the middle of a scrap yard, and stewed.

Azazzle killed Jess to remind him of his Mom, his Mom died because of Azazzle’s desire to infect him with demon blood, Azzazle wanted to infect him with demon blood to make him a perfect vessel for Lucifer.

Even Dean dying from the Hellhounds. He died to break the first seal on Lucifer’s cage. 

It went on. And on. And on.  

It was a chain of events, of people and their actions, that went up and up and up. All the way up to Lucifer. Every bad thing in his life could be linked back to her. 

How could he like her? How could he let himself get close to her? To want her?

He almost felt sick to the stomach with the thought of it. 

If she was gone, if she was dead… would that be justice? Would that be vengeance?  

Sam gnawed on the side of his cheek as he looked around the quiet scrap yard. 

He had told Dean what had happened with Lucifer in the hotel room. His brother had been surprisingly quiet about it. 

“I don’t know about that Sam,” Dean had said. He was in the driver seat, searing them back towards Bobby’s place. “I get it… she is the Devil but… she doesn’t act like one.” 

“It’s a front, Dean. A way to get closer to us.”

“I won’t pretend that she’s a Saint, but she aint what heaven was pushing either.”

“I thought you didn’t like her?” Sam had snapped. “What’s with the change of heart?”

“Not a change of heart, per say. Just… we got a lot goin’ on right now and she’s the heaviest hitter we got. Seems like a bad move to push her away. And she healed Bobby’s legs and didn’t ask for anything in return.”

“Manipulation, Dean.”

“Maybe. I’m just as confused as you, but it just doesn't feel right.” Dean grumbled, and with that, they had gone back to sitting in silence, the radio humming out some classic rock from the cassette tapes. 

So that led to where he was now, sitting on the back of an old rusted car in Bobby’s scrap yard, mulling over things. 

The two of them had a lead on Crowley, the demon who was rumored to hold the Colt. They were going after it the next day. A part of him was still conflicted about it, the whole reason for getting the Colt was to kill Lucifer. 

Sam wasn’t sure what he wanted, but one, large part of him wanted to shoot her right in the face. 

Vengeance, justice, revenge . 

The words sang through him; payback for all of his hardships, an outlet for everything he went through condensed into one bullet.

Would it make him happy? Would killing her be enough?

 There was another smaller part inside of him, a part that made his whole body feel icky and gross at the thought of killing her. A part that balked at the idea of getting the Colt because of what it symbolized in obtaining. 

Lucifer’s death, at his hands. 

Is it vengeance, is it justice, is it revenge ?  

Sam scowled into the open air as the thought warred in his head. But the thoughts didn’t stop him from hearing the approaching footsteps. 

Bobby slid around the head of the truck and to the back bumper where Sam sat, wafting over the smell of old books and cheap beer. 

“Whatcha doin’ out here for, boy?” Bobby asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He stood a lot nowadays, forgoing chairs and couches to lean against tables and the like. Sam could tell it was left over from when he was stuck in the wheelchair, as if sitting down once would mean he’d never stand again.  

“Thinking.” Sam said shortly, not in the mood for company. Bobby, however, was just and stubborn and waited for him to continue talking, even after the pause had gone on long past awkward.

Sam heaved out a sigh. “I fought with Lucifer the other day, I said some things and I'm conflicted. On one hand, Lucifer is… odd and interesting. She tells me about the universe and all these fascinating things. She healed you and was kind to our waiters. And she says doesn’t want the apocalypse. But… on the other hand, she is the Devil, she’s known for her manipulation and lies. She hates humanity and wants to see us dead. She even said so!” Sam realized he was shouting and lowered his voice with a shake of his head. “She just wants me for my body. Everything bad in my life has led straight back to her: to her wants, to her agenda, and I'm afraid I'm playing right into her hands. 

 “I just… I just don’t know what to do.” 

Bobby huffed and puffed at the younger man, taking his cap off for a moment to scratch at his head in thought. 

“See here, boy. I know it's easy to hate her. We’ve been raised all our lives on the fact that the Devil is bad and evil. An’ the cause of all our problems. She’s got a sign on her back the size of Texas that screams ‘Blame it all on me.’ Makes it damn easy.” He turned to Sam, “But she ain’t light those fires on the ceiling, Sam. She ain’t the one that made you're Dad take that deal, and she sure as shit ain't the one that killed your brother. 

"Those were the actions of a horrible few who used her as an excuse, too. To further their causes and justify their own bad deeds. She was locked away, Sam.“ 

He spoke so gently to him, with so much love and understanding. It was a rare sight from the gruffled old hunter, and Sam felt his eyes start to sting. Sam cleared his throat and looked down, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. 

“My whole life… is upturned.” Sam said quietly. “I could have been raised by my Mom, by a Dad that saw me as his Son instead of a monster to be put down. Me and Dean could have lived normal lives, far away from the supernatural.

“But I was targeted because of her .” Sam’s voice shook, his hands moving up and clenched in front of him. The tears began to fall and he hated it. “I’m her vessel. That’s the root of it all. That’s all she wants .” 

Bobby rubbed a hand along his chin, scratching at his beard. 

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But if you start down that line of thought, you’ll be blaming everyone else for all your problems. And that ain’t a road you want to go down.” 

Bobby patted Sam on the back before heading back into the house, leaving him to his thoughts. 

Kore distanced herself from Sam. She no longer came to him in his sleep or person during the day. Gaining Sam’s trust was futile if he was so set on blaming her for all the problems in his life. The dude needed some serious therapy. 

So she found the next best thing. 

Coasting over the cities on shining wings, Kore scoped out her quarry.

She was aware of Nick’s presence since she first came out of the cage. He was, after all, her ‘other’ self’s primary vessel and she was curious by nature. Kore had one of her more trusted demon underlings find him and bug his house for her peep on him whenever she felt inclined. 

It was this way she learned of his wife and child’s demise by the hands of a human intruder and about his subsequent fall into depression and substance abuse. A part of her sympathized for the man; but the grander, more angel side of her, felt a string of apathy for it. After all, when humans die, they move on to heaven. Death for humans was very different from the death of an angel, and she had a hard time finding any empathy for them. 

For Kore, the death of a human was akin to someone moving to another city. They were not gone, just in another place that she could easily travel to (if she was allowed in heaven that was). She knew this would make her appear rather alien, or cruel and heartless, but it was difficult to find pity for something she found so… simple. 

So when she found out that Nick’s family had perished, she felt very little pity for the man and was actually rather put off by his grief. 

Nick had been having… a horrible time. He knew that what he was doing wasn’t helping. The drinks, the drugs and other nasty things he delved into, in a desperate, vain attempt to dull the pain he was in. The law failed him, they couldn’t find the person who had killed his wife and child as they slept. As they slept. 

Nick took another swig of his drink; the hard, cheap stuff that came in plastic bottles that could strip the paint off a car. He already felt very… swishy. His vision moved as if he was on the water, swaying back and forth on invisible waves. His head felt numbingly, nauseously, fuzzy. 

He had searched on his own after the police investigation came up dry, had spent all his savings, sold his house, car and other worldly possessions, all on private investigators who came up with nothing to show for it. He sat now, alone in the side ally of the local liquor store, broke and broken. 

“ Nick,” he heard his name whispered softly like the wind calling him. Head lolling to the side, he peered up at the alleyway he sat in, eyes squinting against the fuzz in his brain. The alleyway was empty, and it was quiet. 

Too quiet. 

Nick was in a city, where there was always the background humm of cars and streetlights. Now it was silent, like the world had paused in mid-motion and left him untouched. His brain cleared a bit as his adrenaline picked up. 

“ Nick .” 

There! There it was again, his name called, whispering on the breeze and echoing eerily through the damp, empty alley. He stood on shaky feet, holding himself up with one hand against the brick building. His vision swam as he tried to right himself, the dull thunk of his half empty drink hitting the pavement filling the vacant, noiseless space around him for the briefest of seconds. But that sound, too, faded away and left nothing behind. 

Nick peered around anxiously, the leftover drugs in his system slowing his reaction time but heightening his paranoia. 

“ Niiiiiickkk ” the voice crooned and he turned around quickly, his vision swimming as he looked at the end of the alley, where the sound came from. 

A dark shadow stood there, its outline humanoid but… blurred around the edges. Its form was like a dark, solid cloud or fog, except for the two glowing red eyes that sat on the head. The eyes that stared straight at him. He stumbled back, his heart pumping a staccato beat in his chest. 

The creature, the thing , did nothing. But he felt its eyes follow him. 

He stumbled out of the alleyway and onto the sidewalk. 

Nick looked around and saw a vacant street. It was a busy city that he was in, and yet… there were no cars or people about. No animals or insects. The wind, even, was gone. It was all gone. 

Nick turned around to find the thing, only to fall back onto his butt in the middle of the street. The thing had moved, and had been standing right behind him. 

Eyes wide with fear, Nick crawled backwards until his butt hit the curb on the other side of the road. He paused there, and stared at the thing. 

It stared back. 

“ Nick, ” his name was whispered once again, now clearly coming from this… this thing. 

“W-Who are you?” he asked shakily, but it just continued to stare. “What do you want?!” he yelled. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall. 

" You," the thing whispered, drifting forward closer and closer . Nick stifled the scream that crawled its way up the back of his throat. His body was locked in place by fear, his muscles clenching so hard he could feel the blood pumping through his whole body. 

It was within reaching distance before its form seemed to shrink, or crouch down in front of him. Nick opened his mouth but no sound came out. 

" Sleep," it crooned to him, a single, dark tendril reaching out. And Nick knew no more. 

Kore stared down at the human, her hand still hovering over his face, observing. Her grace reached out, skimming over his form and healed him completely of all ailments. It wouldn't do for her new human project to fall prey to his failing biology before she was done with him. 

With a quick flick of her fingers, her new human disappeared into her personal pocket dimension for safekeeping until she could deposit him in her office. She had something to do first before she left. 

Spreading out her wings, she folded space around her until she appeared in front of the local police department. 

Kore had a killer to find.

Chapter Text

Nick came to with a snort, his eyes blurry and crusted over with gunk. His head pounded from his hangover and his mouth tasted like someone had taken a shit in it. 

Groggily, he pulled the blanket off and sat up, his hands coming up to cradle the pounding of his head. He let out a deep, pain-filled moan, a large bout of nausea making him feel lightheaded. 

Reaching out blindly, he grabbed for the nightstand until his hand came in contact with a glass. He pulled the glass back and put it to his lips, chugging back the cool water within until he felt the nausea slowly abate. Lots of practice had him holding back the bile as he slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked around. 

The room was covered in plants. Ivy climbed up the walls, ferns and succulents filled shelves and window sills. The bed he was in was a lovely shade of lavender and smelled like eucalyptus. The furniture was tasteful and a light oak color, and a small chandelier hung from the center of the room.

Nick, who had been bouncing from shelter to shelter over the past few months, felt very out of place in his ragged, stained clothes. 

He stood out of bed slowly, letting the dizziness fade from his head before making his way to the door, his bare feet sinking into the thick carpet. 

A thousand and one suspicions flickered through his head, things from kidnapping to him accidentally breaking and entering. He wrote off his last memories as a drunken-induced hallucination, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. 

He stood from the bed, blinking hard as the nausea came back in full force. Taking a few deep breaths, Nick walked around the room, trying to find an idea of where he was. But the room, while well furnished, was devoid of anything personal . After a thorough exploration, he decided to leave the room and seek answers.  

Exiting the room, Nick walked tentatively down the hall, taking note of the risqué biblical art pieces that covered the walls and the climbing plants that weaved around and behind them.

The hall ended at a large, glass room. 

In the center of the room stood a large L desk, one side was covered in a large number of computer screens, each one showing something different, ranging from spreadsheets, maps, and what looked like live footage of someone’s residence. On the other side of the desk, there were stacks of papers and folders, with a cup full of pens and a few bonsai trees that looked carefully pruned and maintained. 

At the desk sat what appeared to be a woman. 

Pale, colorless skin, with platinum blond hair that sat short on her head. She wore a white pantsuit with silver epaulets that dripped silver chains down her upper arms like water droplets. The most striking feature of this being was her too-bright crimson eyes that stood out boldly from her otherwise colorless appearance. 

Looking at her scared Nick. 

It was like a presence covered the space around her, filling every inch and crevasse of the room in its oppressive weight. There was a vastness behind her eyes, like when you look at a doorway into a pitch-black room and can feel the space beyond it. 

It was hard to breathe. 

“Good morning, Nick,” She said, a small, deceptively kind smile on her face. 

Her voice was soft and buttery. It melted in Nick’s ears and trailed down his neck like a hot shower, lulling him into a sense of faux peace; like a predator hypnotizing its prey. 

“Where am I?” he croaked, his voice dry and grating, a sharp contrast to hers. 

“You are at my home,” she said simply, not looking away from him. Not blinking. 

“W-Why?” his voice was breathless, his nerves fried as his instincts told him to run run RUN….

After his words, she stood, which made his body light up in panic but his legs locked in place. 

“I need your help, Nick,” she said simply, walking around her desk and moving to stand a few feet in front of him. “My name is Lucifer, you might also know me as Satan or the Devil.” 

Nick was… inclined to believe her. 

He nodded in one, short, stiff move. Lucifer looked amused for a moment before her expression smoothed back into a polite smile.

“And why does the Devil want my help?” he asked slowly.

“As you can guess, I am not human,” she spoke, her arms folding behind her back. Lucifer walked around him as if inspecting a piece of livestock. “To walk on this physical plane without destroying the world around me, I need a vessel. You are from a very powerful bloodline, one almost powerful enough to house me.” 

“You… want my body,” Nick responded, haltingly, the hair raising on the back of his neck. 

“Oh no,” she responded, stopping her lap around him and standing face to face. The chains on her suit rattled at her sudden halt. “I want your blood.” 

“I don’t see how that’s better,” he wheezed out. 

“Oh it is, you retain your autonomy!” she said with a bright smile as if that made it all better. 

“And I'm guessing I don't have a choice in this?” he asked, but Lucifer was already shaking her head. 

“Of course you do,” she said as if he was exasperatedly naïve. “The spell doesn’t work if you are unwilling.” 

“And what makes you think I would willingly want to give you my blood?” 

“Well, I do believe I have something to tempt you with.” Lucifer winked with a mischievous smile. She crooked one of her fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, the bright white nails reflecting off the light. Once Nick stiffly took one step forward, she turned and began to walk, obviously expecting him to follow. 

Nick didn’t know why he did, but his feet seemed to move of their own accord. 

He followed her out of the glass room and into a brightly lit elevator that was large enough for 20 people to stand in comfortably. He watched as she reached over to the control panel and hit a button on the very bottom that had a large ‘666’ embossed on it. From the looks of the panel, there indeed were 666 floors, which sent a small flicker of amusement through Nick, before he had a small mental break. 

Nick, who was a former architect, knew that the tallest building in the world only had 160ish floors. So he tried hard not to think of the logistics of the building, which (from the view out of the glass room) appeared to be only about 10 stories tall on the outside. 

Nick was getting anxious as the numbers slowly tick ticked downwards, and he became even more nervous as the temperature seemed to drop with every change in number. 

His teeth started chattering around 430.

“Most people,” Lucifer started, making Nick jump, “believe I run hot when it is quite the opposite.” Nick could do nothing but nod in reply, which seemed to amuse her. She peered over at him for a moment, before waving her hand in his direction. A thick, warm coat appeared on him, making him startle fiercely and look back at her with wide, terrified eyes. 

A light, tinkling laugh left Lucifer’s mouth and she looked at him in open amusement this time. 

“Seeing is believing, hm?” she hummed at him, her red eyes sparkling. Nick could only give a shaky nod in response. 

The coat was warm, and Nick only felt the chill in his feet as they went lower and lower. 

The elevator finally came to a halt at the lowest floor, and the doors smoothly slid open to expose a very dark, grimy hallway. Lucifer strode forth confidently, while Nick stood frozen in place. She got far enough that Nick strained to see her even with her bright white suit and complexion. But when she turned back to him, her eyes glowed in the darkness, sending Nick back to his last memory before waking up. The cold hand of fear gripped his spine tightly, and he found it impossible to step forward, out of the brightly lit elevator and into the unknown darkness. 

His hands were clammy, and, even in the chilly atmosphere, a drop of sweat ran down his neck and soaked into the collar of his shirt. 

He watched as Lucifer slowly walked forward, her features slowly reforming in the light streaming out of the elevator. 

“Nick,” she said, oh so softly and soothing that Nick almost wanted to relax. “I promise you, no harm will come to you as long as you are with me.” She stood in front of him, just outside the elevator, a clear divide between them. 

“What I offer you, is a choice. Come with me, see what I have to offer, and you will not regret it.” She tempted him like nothing else he had ever felt, such a strange feeling mixed in with the deep primal fear that she instilled into his very being. 

“And if I don't want it?” he whispered. 

“Then you do not have to accept it. And I will drop you off where I found you.” 

Nick thought back to the alleyway. To the cramped shelters and garbage can food. To the cheap booze and the constant, relentless torment of knowing his family’s killer was still out there. What did he have to lose? He truly had nothing left in life, and he knew he’d find an end to it at the bottom of a bottle. 

Nick took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold. 

Lucifer gave him a smile, a true, genuine smile that had Nick’s heart thumping in an emotion very different than before. 

Lucifer turned and walked down the hallway, into the darkness. 

And Nick followed. 

It was almost impossible to see once they walked in further, the only thing that reassured him that he was following her was the faint red glow along the walls from Lucifer’s eyes. 

They came to a large, rusted metal door that was caked with dried blood and covered in scratches. Nick took a deep breath, calming his nerves at the sight. The door was opened with a bone-rattling squeal, and the two stepped through. 

Inside was, in simplest terms, a dungeon. 

Blades, saws, and other sharp things lined the walls on shelfs and hooks. Chains dangled from the ceiling, some with manacles, some with sharp-looking hooks with suspicious-looking strips of meat still clinging to them. New and old blood caked the floor and walls, and the room stunk heavily of death and decay. 

In the center, sat a man. He was bound heavily to a chair, blindfolded and gagged, with a black shirt and slacks on. He had a thick head of dark brown hair and a 5 o’clock shadow peppered his chin and cheeks. There was no apparent injury on him.

The man looked up at the sound of the door opening and began to wiggle in his chair whilst shouting, the gag making his words completely illegible. 

Nick looked over at Lucifer as he came to stand next to her, the two of them standing just a handful of feet away from the bound man. 

“This,” Lucifer purred with delight, “Is what I offer you.” 

“I don’t understand,” Nick said softly. He stared at the unfamiliar man, trying to place his face, but came up empty. 

“I’m not surprised you do not recognize him. Allow me to introduce you,” she said, a thread of malicious delight in her voice that made Nick apprehensive. He watched as she walked forward to stand next to the man, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Edward Baldwin, 35 years old, works at a little mom-and-pop shop for pennies on the dime. He likes craft beer, bad TV and heroin.” She looked back over at Nick, a razor-sharp smile on her face. 

“Lots and lots of heroin.” she said, “A lot more than his meager salary can supply.” She open-lipped and tisk-ed, her stark white teeth catching the low light of the room. “So much so that Eddie here,” she moved around the back of the chair, both of her hands on the man’s shoulders. She leaned down, her face right next to Edward's, and peered up at Nick through her lashes. 

“Would sneak into people’s houses and rob them for cash or things to pawn.”

A deep, open well of hatred sprung up from the depths of Nick’s very soul as he read between the lines. 

This one, this one, THIS ONE.

His breathing came out harsh as Lucifer continued to speak. 

“Oh and he did it quite a lot, too. And never got caught despite how sloppy he was. You see, Eddie here has a brother on the local PD, one who’s not above destroying evidence to keep his dirtbag little brother from behind bars. So when little Eddie here gets caught by a woman mid-robbery and kills not only her, but her child as well? Well.” she gave Nick a sardonic smile, “That was just one more thing to cover up, wasn’t it?” 

Nick didn’t see it, though. He was too busy staring at the man, at his family’s murderer. 

His hands burned to twist, tear and hurt the man in front of him. His teeth ached to plunge into his throat and rip until he was choking on blood. 

He wanted to kill this man, to destroy him down to his very atoms, for what he had done to his family. 

Lucifer stood up from her crouch next to the man and walked around him, back in front of Nick. He tore his gaze away from his family’s killer and looked at her with wild, murderous eyes. 

“In return for you, I give him to you.” she said and Nick let out a deep, bone-deep breath of air that he had been holding since she revealed the man’s actions. 

“To me?” he asked, his whole body trembling with adrenaline and hatred. Lucifer hummed an affirmative and nodded to his question as well. 

“Yessss, my dear” she hissed, her eyes lighting up more. She gripped the sides of his shoulders with two cold hands, her inhumanly long nails pinching his flesh. “He is yours to do with as you wish. Maim, tear, rip, burn, sever, destroy . Anything you desire. He is yours.”

“And in return?” Nick asked, barely able to keep his words straight as his heart pounded in his ears. 

“ You will be mine. ” 

Her hands came up to cup his face, forcing them to stand breast to breast. He could feel the cold radiating off her body, the oppressive presence of her that once sat so heavily and ominously, now more like a comfortable weighted blanket, anchoring him to reality. 

“Mine to keep, mine to do with as I please. You will obey and serve me until the end of your days. And then, after, your soul will be mine .” she said in an intense whisper, her breath fanning over his face and bringing with it the sharp scent of peppermint and something other . 

“Will I ever see my family again?” he asked just as softly, staring into her red eyes with the desperation only a man at his end could produce.  

“No,” she replied, “They are in heaven, which you will never see.”

Nick wasn’t shocked at this. He never expected to get to heaven, not with the things he had done in his vain attempt to find his family's murderer before Lucifer showed up. A small sense of relief sat under the crushing sadness. He did not want his family to see what he had become, he did not want to face them, in the end, with the sins that now sat on his shoulders. And knowing where he would be after death, knowing that Lucifer would always keep him, gave him some comfort. 

“What do you need from me?” he whispered. 

“Just say Yes.”  

Chapter Text

WARNING: GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF TORTURE, DISMEMBERMENT, AND GORE 

Kore watched as Nick tore into the man who murdered his family. 

He was beautiful in his savagery; the way his soul shuddered along its cracks reminded her of a window rattling in its frame during a heavy storm. Different parts lit up, some dimmed, some shattered into spider web cracks as he peeled apart the other man piece by piece. She could see a dark red color ooze into parts of his teal-dominant soul, filling up the area around his hands and eyes. The soul-stain of a murderer. 

She watched in absolute fascination as Nick continued to damn himself, willingly, with full knowledge of the consequences and not caring . Or, perhaps, he did care, but the desire of revenge was too tantalizing to pass up. It was so interesting to watch him weigh the consequences and see him still choose damnation. 

Humans, in this regard, were captivating. Their hatred was an art form, one cultivated to the finest of points. No angel or demon would willingly, of their own volition, choose to do something that they knew would come back to hurt them. But humans? Humans were fearless . 

It was at this moment that Kore had a brief flicker of admiration for humans before she snuffed it out with disgust. 

Nick was, however, proving to be interesting in his own right. Kore had assumed, wrongly, that he would go straight for a beating, turning the man into a pulp under his fists and feet. Instead, Nick took his time. He started with the tongue, cutting it out of the man’s face so he could not plead or beg for his life. He then went for the teeth, finger, and toenails, ripping them out one by one with malicious precision.  

He then slowly stripped off the man’s skin, inch by inch, careful not to let the man bleed out. Kore wondered where he picked up such knowledge and made a note to ask once he was done. 

It was an awe-inspiring performance; the man’s screams were music and Nick was a musician; plucking nerves like strings of a violin and tapping on raw, exposed bones like ivory piano keys. And Kore… Kore was his captivated audience. 

The climax of the entertainment was when Nick used one of the blades on the wall to saw the man’s hands off. Nick had growled out, in a tone so dark and vengeful, that he had laid his hands on Nick’s wife and child, and thus forfeited them. 

The man bled out quickly after that and died as Nick finished sawing off the last bit of meat from his left, and last, hand. 

Kore waited a moment from where she had sat, watching, letting Nick process what had happened. His eyes looked down at the corpse with a dead-eyed stare that hinted at emotional exhaustion. Blood caked his body and clothes like a Jackson Pollock painting; teeth, nails, and strips of skin littered the floor along his feet. 

She stood from her chair and walked over to him, placing one hand on his back and leading him out of the room. He followed without a sound or hint of awareness, his mind a million miles away. Kore didn’t bother taking the elevator and flew them back to her floor. 

With barely a thought, she cleaned him of the gore and blood, changing his clothes and even freshening his teeth, before leading him back to the same room he woke in. She put him to bed as a mother would: blanket up to his chin and tucked in. 

“Rest now, we have many things to discuss in the morning,” she said softly, brushing back the hair from his face. With a flicker of grace, she put him into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

After assuring that he would remain asleep until morning, Kore exited the room and began to plan. 

Kore planned to keep Nick alive for as long as possible. But humans were so… squishy and fragile. Unless they were turned into a monster or possessed.

… There was a thought. 

With little prompt or pomp, Kore folded her wings around her body tightly and spun in place. Her body became intangible as her Grace carved a path for her, straight down into Hell. 

She landed hard, two heeled boots slamming into brimstone floors and sending shockwaves that rattled the foundations of Hell. The shouts and screams of demons and damned alike crashed over her in welcome. 

Kore moved into the first layer of Hell, humming in contemplation. 

She needed a demon, one that would be a suitable symbol for Nick. However, nothing that was once a soul or angel.

Unlike what most people thought, there were more than two ways a demon is formed. The two known ways were an angel falling or a human being turned. Demons were also manifested, an unintentional side effect of human belief and a hefty dose of excess infernal energy. These demons form as embodiments of human sin, true evil in their own rights, but lack the… creativity of demon-turned humans. Ribbagoth was one of these demons, for example, and he lacked a higher level of thinking than the other two types of demons possessed. 

Now, onto things. 

Dante had a very interesting peek at Hell when he was here, and was able to get a few things right about its structure. 

For one, there were, indeed, 9 layers of Hell, each for their own Sin. And for each Sin, an Archdemon. 

First Circle: Limbo with Astaroth.

Second Circle: Lust with Asmodee.

Third Circle: Gluttony with Beelzebub

Fourth Circle: Greed with Paimon

Fifth Circle: Anger with Oriens

Sixth Circle: Heresy with Egin

Seventh Circle: Violence with Magoth

Eighth Circle: Fraud with Amaymon

Lucifer stood before all of them as a personification of Pride or Treachery of the Ninth Circle, as Dante had oh-so nicely put it; she thought was a bit on the nose.

There were sections and off-shoots of each sin, with different areas for specific sinful actions. Like in Gluttony, there is a special place for those who knowingly took from the needy and hoarded wealth for themselves at the expense of others. In Lust, there was a place for pedophiles that Kore liked to spice up every so often. 

A lot of sins were different from what humans labeled them as. For one, Lust was not a sin for the action itself, but more for the actions surrounding it. One wouldn’t go to hell for having sex, or even a lot of it. But forcing themselves on someone else? Taking advantage of someone else? First-class ticket down. 

Kore took vicious pleasure in this. Consent was important for angels, and she took it rather personally. 

Her stroll through a few layers of Hell was rather quick. The place worked as well as it ever had and didn’t require a firm hand like the legions on Earth did. Her Lords and Princes followed her command with a loyalty that bordered on obsession, and she fed into it, securing their enamored subjugation. 

Kore stopped at the Fifth Circle, the Circle of Anger or Wrath. It was a pit marsh of ash, putrid flesh, and acid; fueled by the angered and wrathful human souls that resided there. They clawed and struggled to get out, climbing over one another to keep from drowning in the disgusting muck. The souls appeared like drowned corpses: their flesh loose, pale, and falling off the bone, their eyes sunken in, and their fingers bony and claw-like from decay. 

There were other demons there, the ones born of Wrath. 

The most common were fish-like; giant catfish, crawfish, and eels with needle teeth that scooped up the rotted souls that were getting close to the edge and dragged them back to the bottom of the marsh. A vicious cycle repeated over and over. 

Their anger consumed them in life and now will drown them for eternity in death. 

Kore hummed and walked along the air a good 10 feet above the mass of wriggling flesh, scanning the area for her quarry. There was a loud bellow and she looked over to see a very large demon dive into the murky water with another in its jaws. It thrashed around and ripped the smaller demon in half before devouring both pieces with a snap of its jaw. 

The demon’s appearance was skeletal along the face but scaled along the body, like a half-decayed sea serpent. It had several short stubby legs that also served as fins, but could drag its bulky form over the rocky parts of the marshland. Its tail was long and feathered, swishing back and forth and slapping the water with its flat side, sending water and bodies flying. 

She watched the carnage unfold as the demon continued to chew its way through the fifth circle, only stopping when she lowered herself in front of it. 

Large, beady black eyes focused on her and the demon relaxed, staring at her like a duckling would its mother. Her two pale hands reached out and cupped the demon’s jaw, feeling along the raw bone and taking stock of its form. 

“You will do just nicely.” 

She waited for Nick to wake up and make his way back out to her area. 

In the meantime, she went over paperwork and numbers, her long nails clicking on the keyboard as she went through her emails. 

Handy things, emails, and technology. Let her keep in contact with all of her demon generals, Lords, and Princes without actually having to see them. The distant form of communication led to a more collaborative atmosphere overall and meant that she didn’t have to force herself to look or be nice to them. Friendly fire had gone down over 20% overall since she implemented this system, which was good in her books. 

She clicked on another email, and signed off on some recruiting techniques, letting the demons reach out to certain groups of humans and tempt them to their cause.

Kore was a realist, she knew she could not clean up this cesspool of a planet on her own, and she did not have the time or patience to do so. So she fell back on something she was able to accomplish: plotting. 

Her first step was gathering more human followers. Demons were helpful, but restricted in many ways. Places were warded against them, salt and iron weaknesses, and they stood out like a sore thumb amongst humans. On top of that, she needed human blood for her fortification ritual and demon blood was unusable for it. So she had her demons reach out to a few groups of humans she knew would take the bait. 

Mainly, environmentalists. 

A surprising group; most would sell humanity out if it meant bees would not go instinct and Kore rather liked that mindset in her following. So she had a human side to her army of minions, and they recruited other like-minded humans to the cause. 

It was also far far easier to get the humans to do ‘good’ deeds than her demons, like cleaning up garbage from waterways or sides of the road, planting native flora, and getting rid of invasive species in their hometowns. Her demons handled the dirty work that they oh-so enjoyed, while her humans did the more… humanitarian things. 

At this moment she had a few of her human leaders working together on large beach clean-ups on several continents as her first big public project. She had a few hundred humans recruited, but she hoped that their numbers would multiply once her agenda was public. 

Publicly, her ‘company’ would go by Mourning-Star Corp, her up-and-coming non-profit multinational corporation that specializes in environmental cleanup, sustainable energy, and wildlife protection. Some very clever demons from the deals department were leading her Public Relations department and were already planting several news articles and papers around the world to gain traction. Interest was small at the moment, but once their PR was ready and Kore began stepping into the public light, their numbers were expected to increase. 

She wasn’t looking forward to working with a bunch of humans, but it was a necessary pain to get her planet looking pretty again. Hopefully, the humans will either die off from their own stupidity, piss off something that will kill them off, or become advanced enough to leave Earth behind. She was hoping for the first two. 

Nick came stumbling out of the side room some hours after she had put him to bed. His hair and clothes were a mess, and he had red lines along his left cheek from how he had been lying. She made a note to give him a credit card and set him loose in a department store sometime that week for clothes, toiletries, and other things humans needed. 

“Good evening Nick, It is now 6:30 in the evening, September 3rd.”

“How long was I out?” he asked, sleep still heavy in his voice. His eyes were very alert still, looking at her cautiously. 

“Around 16 hours,” she hummed. Nick grimaced at the number, shuffling over to sit in the seat across the desk from her. 

“So what now?” he asked plainly, making Kore smile a bit. She was glad he wasn’t a whimpering mess in her presence, that grew annoying quickly. 

She turned and opened a drawer in her desk. Reaching in she grabbed at the demon she had stashed there. On Earth, the once half-skeletal demon now looked to be a formless mass of black smoke, one that she held between two pinched fingers. 

Kore took the demon of Wrath, and with a quick flick of her wrist, obliterated its consciousness like shaking the dust off a rag. She turned and walked to Nick, the now insentient mass of black smoke hanging limp in her fingers. Holding up the demon, she pressed it to his lips. 

“Consume it,” she ordered, waiting for him to obey. Nick hesitated for only a moment before complying, letting the torpid demon slide past his lips and down his throat. She pushed her palm against his mouth to keep him from spitting it back out as it painfully carved its way down to his very soul. His body jerked, hands coming up to claw at her arms. 

Kore watched in fascination as the demon’s remains took hold in Nick’s body, twining around his soul like a sheer fabric and condensing around the head and torso. Her grace mingled with the demonic energy and his soul, sewing them together with a thin thread of power. She laid Nick on the ground, his body contorting this way and that, twisting in painful directions as his bones snapp-ed out of their sockets before SNAP-ing back into place. His mouth was open in a silent scream, his eyes wide and bloodshot. 

And all at once, it was done. His body fell into a heap on the floor, a puppet with its strings cut. He was breathing hard and heavy, his breaths the only sound in the room other than the humm of her computers. 

Kore crouched next to the human’s splayed body, looking over his soul with curiosity. She reached out and brushed her true hand along the ridges of where his soul melded with the demon. The colors meshed together like a gradient, creating a seamless transition, red to teal. 

He shuddered under her touch, his soul-demon mix stirring under her hands and pressing up into it like a cat. Kore soothed away his aches and pains, giving him little shush-ing noises and she collected him into her arms like a mother would a child. And he was, in a sense. Her newest creation, a bastardization of God’s own work. But he was hers now. 

“W-what did you do to me?” he asked in a choked whisper, his head cradled against her chest. 

“I made you more . I made you powerful .” She said softly back, stroking his hair. “No mortal weapon can harm you now, no cage or chains can bind you. You have the powers of Hell now at your fingertips. You can protect yourself. You can protect others.” 

“I… I couldn’t protect them. ” he whimpered. His eyes were shut tightly, but Kore could guess how shiny they would be. 

“What has happened cannot be undone. But now -” she grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at her, “ now you can make sure it Never. Happens. Again .” 

Nick opened his eyes and she noted with some interest that they were now entirely black except the iris, which was a sharp teal. The man stared at her face, his eyes watery and filled with awe, the fear draining out of his body and making way for reverence.

“Can I protect you?” he asked softly. Kore hummed, her grip on his chin relaxing and her fingers moving to rub lightly against his jawline. 

“There are many things you can do for me. Protection can be one of them, however, I am more than capable of looking after myself.” 

“Then what do you need from me?”

“Right now? I need you to take care of yourself. Get back into better mental and physical shape and I will begin giving you tasks to complete or training to complete future tasks.”

She made to get up and Nick untangled himself from her to stand as well. 

Patting out the wrinkles in her suit, Kore continued.

“You will also be given a generous salary, a mobile device for contacting me and others in our cause only, and room and board. You will need to get your own food, toiletries, and entertainment.

“The room you woke up in will be your permanent residence, you may decorate it to your liking. You have full access to this floor except for my personal room.” She gave him a stern look. “Don’t touch my plants.” 

“I won't,” he said, looking a little dazed. 

“Then I will show you the rest of the floor and then take you for your shopping.” With a gesture she led him around the floor. She pointed out the main area, her workspace, the apartment with its full amenities, and her personal rooms. 

Kore did open the door to her private areas so he could take a peek, sating his curiosity now so that he didn’t feel the urge to snoop later. 

Nick peered his head in and blinked. 

“So… you like frogs?” he said slowly, incredulity. Kore looked over at what he was talking about. 

Her personal area was large and also well-lit, with a small sitting area and a hall that led back to her unused bedroom. But Nick was clearly looking at the other side of the room, where Ribbagoth was. 

The fat toad demon was sprawled, belly down, in a starfish position on a veritable sea of pillows. A tiny bowler hat was affixed to his head, with a matching monocle and bowtie that Kore had found exceptionally cute and dapper when she had put them on him earlier that day. The area Ribbagoth was in was ‘his’ area of her personal space, complete with pictures of him on the walls, a snack and water station, and a life-sized gold statue of him that one demon had made for her in an attempt to smooch up. 

The fact that the demon was now in a very cushy office position had no correlation. 

“That is Ribbagoth,” she explained, walking over to the toad and picking him up with both hands. He let out a grumpy croak as she moved him into her arms, shifting this way and that in her grip before getting comfortable and promptly falling back to sleep. She moved back over to the doorway where Nick stood and turned so he could look at the toad. 

“He is a demon toad, and he is my pet. One of your jobs will be to look after him when I am not here.” Nick nodded, still looking at the toad in confusion. 

“I just didn’t expect”, he gestured to her,” for someone like you to have a pet toad of all things.” 

“You’ll find that I rarely conform to others' expectations of me,” she said, a little saltidly, one sharp brow raising high. Nick had the good graces to look abashed. 

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” 

“See that you do.” 

Chapter Text

In a dream, or perhaps an alternate dimension, one where Sam found out about Nick and Lucifer’s plans. Perhaps he even realized her deception and her lies about wanting his body when all she wanted was his blood. And this angered him. 

Jealousy sizzled through his veins as Sam stomped up ten flights of stairs. It hadn’t been difficult to find Lucifer’s base of operations, the news articles about her new company were everywhere. 

“You lied to me.” he hissed, his hands braced on the top of her desk. Lucifer, who hadn’t looked up since he had entered, continued to pointedly type on her computer. 

“Mislead is a better word for it,” she said, offhandedly, her nails clicking against the keys. Her disregard for him stirred the anger in his chest, 

“You never wanted my body, only my blood.”

“That is correct.”

“If you had just said-”

“Sam” she said sternly, finally looking up at him from where she still sat. “You were set on hating me the second I showed up. Even if I was completely truthful with you, you would have resisted me on some preconceived notion that it was nefarious.”

“You chose him." He continued, "What was all that talk about me being your true vessel and how you needed me? More lies?” his eyes were flashing. Lucifer’s eye twitched in clear irritation, her fingers flexing from where they rested on the desk. 

“I chose him because he wasn’t a bigoted asshole hell-bent on blaming me for all his life problems!” she snapped. 

"Then stop being a problem!" 

" You're my problem" she hissed, thumping her hands flat on her desk. 

“Why are you so frustrating!” Sam yelled, leaning heavy over the desk and in her personal space. 

“Maybe because I don't cater to your every stupid whim and delusion!” she yelled right back, standing up herself and getting in his face. Sam let out an illegible roar of frustration and reached out to grab the lapels of her jacket, hauling the very surprised angle over the desk and slamming his mouth against hers. 

It was violent and angry, teeth clashing together. Both sets of lips split from the onslaught, leaving a tangy iron taste behind. Lucifer made a muffled sound of protest, her hands coming up to grip his upper arms, but Sam noted with a primal satisfaction that she did not push him away. One of his hands moved from her lapel to drag up and grip her tightly by the back of the neck. The large size of his hand meant that his fingers and thumb were pressing along her jaw on either side, holding her firmly in place.

He yanked her closer, her knees hitting the top of the desk and forcing her into a kneeling position. His spare hand sneaked around her waist and pulled her flush to him, the coldness of her body bleeding through their clothes and setting a sharp contrast to his burning skin. 

She tasted like the stars; a metallic taste that tingled along his tongue and zapped down his body like lightning. She smelled like sin, a heady scent that coiled in his nose and fogged his brain with lust.

A twitch of his hips brought attention to his cock, which sat full and heavy in the confines of his jeans. Sam moaned low and deep in his throat at the thought of pushing deep inside of Lucifer's cunt and fucking her senseless. The hand gripping the back of her neck moved further up and dug into her hair, fisting the silky strands and yanking her head back sharply. She let out a gasp and Sam trailed hot, open mouth kisses across her jawline and down the pale column of her throat. He bit down hard on the juncture where her shoulder met her neck, almost breaking the skin. Lucifer let out a high keen, arching into his hold and pressing hard into his erection. 

Securing his hold on her waist, he pulled her forward until her legs fell off the desk before pressing her back onto its surface. Papers and knick knacks fell to the floor as he laid her flat. 

His hands moved, groping her hips in a vice-like grip and grinding against her with all his strength. 

“O-oh shit oh Sam,” Lucifer breathed out, her hands holding his head, fingers buried in his hair and nails scratching along his scalp. Sam sucked bruises into her alabaster skin, the bright red and purple marks standing out sharply on her collarbones. They were a sign, a claim, and it drove him insane . 

Sam removed himself from her embrace with a hard gasp, taking a moment to catch his breath and admire the Proper and Sophisticated Lucifer completely debauched from his ministrations. As if sensing his smugness (knowing her powers she probably was), Lucifer glared up at him. 

“Stop patting yourself on the back and get back here.” she snapped. He grinned down at her in response, his hands going to the waistband of her pants and yanking them off, almost taking her off the desk with it. Lucifer muttered curses and insults about his intelligence as he threw the pants off to the side.

Her thighs were the thickest part of her; they were delightfully squishy and madingley soft. Pulling both of her legs up, he grabbed onto the flesh on the back of her right thigh and gave it a firm shake, watching the flesh jiggle back and forth. Lucifer was grumbling at his ministrations, looking up at him with a pouty expression that drove him up the wall. He delivered a hard smack to where the thigh and ass cheek met, pulling a surprised yelp from her. 

“If you are going to keep messing around I might as well go find someone else to get me off.” She hissed, looking up at him in contempt. Sam gave her a shark-like grin that was all teeth and savagery. He hoisted her legs up higher by the back of her knees and spread them. 

Lucifer was wearing white panties that were absolutely soaked along her pussy, the fabric turning partially transparent and hinting at the pink of her folds. Sam felt his cock lurch in his pants at the sight, a hot spike of lust shooting down his body and making him even harder. He swallowed the saliva that pooled in his mouth, and made quick work of removing the fabric, too impatient to tease her further. 

Sam wasted no time, he knelt before the desk and dove right in. His tongue snaked out, and licked in the center of her folds from hole to clit. He groaned at the deep, musky taste of her, noting the stardust taste was present as well. Using the flat of his tongue he lapped at her cunt over and over, grinding it against her clit with deadly precision. 

High, breathy sounds came from above him, thick thighs squeezing along the sides of his head. He circled her clit with his tongue, keeping the pressure and tempo even and firm. His grip dug into the meat of her hips, leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers while Lucifer ground against his face, her hips rocking back and forth and smashing her clit against his lips and tongue. 

Cold fingers dug into his scalp, and the heels of her bare feet dug into his back. He kept up his efforts, putting his all into eatting out the Devil and making her cum on his fucking face . 

Two fingers slid in easily, and Sam felt his cock leak at the feel of her incredibly tight and hot grip around them. Using the ‘come hither’ motion he rubbed at her G spot, the spongy tissue under the pads of his fingertips swelling as she became more and more aroused. 

The noises she made became louder and higher, the grip on his hair painful and the squeeze of her thighs so tight that he could hear her heart beating a staccato rhythm in his ears. 

Sam felt her cum with a loud wail, her walls giving a hard, pulsing squeeze around his fingers. Her back arched sharply and Sam was forced to hold her hips in place. He held his breath in the smothering hold of her thighs, unwilling to part from the delicacy of her folds, forgoing air in turn for the taste of her on his tongue. 

Sam eased her back down, slowly and remorsefully leaving the warmth of her cunt, a few teasing licks as a parting gift. 

His face was drenched in her slick, the overhead light reflecting off his chin and cheeks. 

His first glance at Lucifer’s face was one he desired to carve into motifs and sculptures for him to admire for years to come. The wide-eyed astonished look stroked his pride in ways he never felt before. 

Sam was quick to pull back to shuck his pants and boxers, unwilling to wait another second to be inside of her. Lucifer made grabby hands at him until he was back between her legs, lining up the head of his cock with her cunt. 

The first push in was absolutely torturous, with Sam watching as he disappeared inch by inch into her embrace. She was hot, slick and tight . 

He had to remind himself to breathe. 

Finally, he bottomed out, watching as Lucifer’s eyes went to half-mass and her deep red lips part in pleasure. She gripped at his arms, which he had planted on the desk on either side of her shoulders, looming over her in a burst of possessiveness. Sam rooooolllled his hips in slow motion, savoring the hot slide and squeeze of her cunt. He reached down with his right hand and tipped her hips up just so, allowing his cock to grind up perfectly with that same spongy spot that had made her cum so beautifully before. The groan she let out was deep and satisfied, ringing in his ears and making his heart thump faster in his chest. 

Sam slid out a few inches and pushed back in, setting a seedy rhythm that built them both up slowly but surely. He savored the experience. Their skin met together in a meaty smack, his hips colliding with the back of her supple thighs with a lewd sound that mingled in her whimpers and his throaty moans. 

“ Shiiiiiit,” Sam hissed as her cunt pulsed around his cock, his thrusts speeding up. With a quick move, he had her legs straight up and over his shoulders as he bent her in half on the desk, her ass sliding off the top as he pulled her in at a better angle. Lucifer’s very enthusiastic sounds told him he had gotten the angle just right. He supported the majority of her weight in his hands and on his hips, the rest of her was balanced precariously on the desk, with just her shoulders making contact. The desk rattled with every thrust, items being shaked off and clattering to the floor as he picked up speed. 

Closer and closer he got to cumming, thrusting harder than he ever would a human woman. He knew she could take it, he knew she wanted it. 

“Sam! OoooOOOH FUCK SAAAM!!” Lucifer wailed, her nails digging into his arm and chest, bloody trails leaking down from the puncture marks. 

“Oh shit, Lucifer, Im going to fucking cum, FUCK!” He felt his orgasm coming strong, just a few more thrusts and he knew he’d be gone.

“Oh shit, Sam! Cum in me, fucking cum in me please! ” she begged, her eyes glowing brightly and her skin flushed pink. 

The raunchy words did the trick and Sam came long and hard, his cock throbbing as he spilled his cum as deeply into her cunt as possible, grinding in his member all the way to the base. Not one to leave things unfinished, Sam reached down, still dazed from his incredible orgasm, and rubbed at her clit. Still inside her, Sam felt her cum once again, her tight cunt gripping down on his cock like a vice and fluttering around him, milking out a few more spurt of his semen. Sam hissed at the oversensitive feeling, but didn’t remove himself from her until she was past the aftershocks of her second orgasm. 

He pulled out, slowly lowering her legs back to the ground. Sam watched as his cum dripped out from her opening, oozing down and following the curve of her inner thighs. Coupled with Lucifer’s disheveled appearance and the multiple marks along her neck and collarbone, the sight was incredibly satisfying on a deep, primal level. 

Mine was what it said, and Sam…

Well. 

Sam rather liked that. 

Chapter Text

 “This year alone, several people in high ranking positions of government have gone missing. No new information has been found about these disappearances. 

Perhaps coincidentally, other people in equal or higher positions of power have begun a new ‘Green’ movement, campaigning for cleaner alternatives to carbon fuel and plastic packaging. New laws and regulations have hit the Congress floor that will limit or completely restrict any form of pollution from factories and workshops. This has caused quite an uproar in the community, many people saying that the government is overstepping themselves and infringing on their rights. 

Just yesterday, a bill was proposed about large-scale fracking that could completely demolish the natural gas market. 

Is the government overstepping? Or is the government finally seeing the damage we have placed on this planet, and have come to their senses that we need to consider our long term survival and sustainability? We will dive into these questions and more tonight at 7. This is Damon Turner with Channel 6 News”

Sam and Dean Winchester searched high and low for the Colt, scouring every rumor and hint for the demon Crowley.

In another universe, they find Crowley and secure the Colt and its bullets from him, with a promise to find and kill Lucifer. 

But in this dimension, Lucifer found Crowley first. 

The demon Crowley knelt before Lucifer, his head tilted back as he stared up at her. 

“Do you swear to serve me to the best of your ability? Swear to serve my cause and goals, and to never directly or indirectly foil any plans I have now or will come up with in the future?” she said, her voice firm and direct. 

“I swear.” he vowed, his voice low and gravely. 

“The bond is sealed, welcome.” she said, removing her hand from his inner arm, revealing his new mark. Crowley stared down at the sparkling frog emblem that had been haunting his footsteps for the last few months with pursed lips.  

Crowley hummed and thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of speaking. But his curiosity got the best of him. 

"I was surprised not to hear any promises of loyalty, undying or otherwise?” It was too big a thing to miss, and Crowley, devious and smart as he was, knew that Lucifer was not one to overlook such a thing. 

The Dragon looks down at him, her pupils peering through her lower lashes. “Of course not,” she purred, voice low and smooth, “Makes things more interesting.” She grinned nastily down her nose at him and Crowley, who had a healthy amount of survival instinct, shivered as fear seeped into his bones like ice. 

He’d be even more careful from now on. 

Famine makes Sam want Lucifer.

It had been months, 4 months to be exact. 4 months since Sam had last seen hide or hair of Lucifer. 

Sam’s initial anger and confusion about Lucifer’s includement in his misfortune boiled down and evaporated with time and introspection. His distrust for her, however, had remained. That was one thing he couldn’t shake. 

Here now, on Valentine's day, he couldn’t help but think about Lucifer. He couldn’t help but regret his words to her that night, but a hefty dose of pride and no small amount of anxiety stopped him from reaching out to apologize. 

Sam rationalized his continued silence on her untrustworthiness, her stance on humanity, and demonic connections. Why would he want to be around someone like that? 

Right?

But he couldn’t help but think about her as their current case progressed. Finding the marks on people’s hearts and then finding the cupid. He looked at all the lovesick couples around him and thought about Lucifer and how they would go out to eat together, or just sit and talk for hours.  

Sensing the demon put her out of his mind for a moment, but only a moment. He could smell the blood pumping through the demon’s veins, hear every thump of its vessel’s heart in his ears like a drum. His mouth was dry and burning. 

It took all of his strength to stop from licking the knife clean after he cut the demon with it. It called to him, and it was right there. But he didn’t. 

He pondered the demon’s presence. Was it here on Lucifer’s orders? Did she know he was here? Was she here??

Sam licked his lips and stared off into space as he imagined her; what he would do if she were standing here, how much he would long to reach out and touch her. The feel of her hair, the smell of her skin, the coolness of her body pressed against his. Sam groaned, his head falling back against the brick wall of the alleyway. 

Sam shook his head and went back to the room, carrying the briefcase that the demon had dropped. 

Later on, after they discovered Famine and Dean had locked Sam up at his own request, Sam found himself banging hard on the pipes under the sink, jiggling the cuffs around and looking for any leverage or advantage he could get to break them. 

They needed to come off! Sam’s body burned and his head swam. He envisioned himself on top of Lucifer, thrusting into her hard and filling her pussy up with his cum, licking her open and wet. Sam let out a snarl, pulling the cuffs hard against the pipe once more, bruising his wrists to the point purple was already showing. He would bet that she’d be hot and soft, her pussy would grip him like a vise and milk him for all he was worth. Greedy for it, desperate for it. 

Sam’s teeth ground together and he gave another hard yank, the cuffs clanging against the pipes loudly. He imagined her laid out before him, her cheeks pink and eyes bright from lust. She’d be loud. Lucifer was the type to know exactly what she wanted and exactly how to get it. She’d canter her hips up, splay her legs and flash him that gorgeous wet cunt. No shy smiles or hiding, the angel would show herself to him proudly and confidently. 

Sam paused. 

Lucifer was an angel.

Angels can be prayed to. 

….

‘ Lucifer, if you can hear me, I need you.’ 

“Sam, what the fuck?” Kore asked, startled. When she had heard Sam’s prayer of all things, she had been in the middle of showing Nick how to file paperwork correctly. He was coming along quite nicely in the past four months and was shaping up to be a very good secretary for her. He had been an accountant before, and was good at keeping track of her holdings in the human side of things. She often lost track of the tiny human things. They were, truly, not on her priority list and she could NOT be bothered to follow every little investment and new holding her blooming company now held. She was running Hell for fucks sake, she had enough on her damn plate. 

Nick’s help, however, was proving rather fruitful, and it saved her time and energy, of which she had in very short supply these days. The paperwork alone was pissing her off. 

Thank goodness she had over a thousand eyes to read with. 

All of this said, she was very alarmed to hear Sam Winchester pray to her. 

To her!

Kore didn’t waste a moment, she grabbed onto the end of the prayer like a tether and used it to hone in on Sam’s location, dropping in right in front of him. She wasn’t expecting to see him handcuffed to a sink and sweating like he ran a marathon mid-summer. The eyes that locked in on her were half crazed and made Kore uneasy. 

Just then, the demons she had felt on the way in finally opened the bathroom door, and the scene clicked. 

Fucking Famine

Kore looked over her shoulder and raised one, unimpressed eyebrow at the demons that stood in the doorway. They shrunk back, simpering and whining in fear. Kore rolled her eyes long and hard before, with a negligent flick of her fingers, destroying the demons down to atoms. Huffing in severe agitation, Kore looked back down at the wet human she unfortunately called her True Vessel. 

“I’ll repeat myself: Sam, what the fuck??” She snapped, grinding her teeth. Why did he call her here? Was he unable to fight off his craving and called her in to stop him from consuming the demon blood? 

“ Luce,” Sam groaned out, his eyes burning a hole through her. She watched as a drop of sweat trickled down his cheek and down his neck, and she scrunched her nose up. Humans were always secreting some sort of fluids, and she found it rather disgusting. 

With a twist of her fingers, Sam’s cuffs fell off.

Kore hummed and thought to herself for a moment. She guessed that she could take him-

Her thoughts were interrupted as a large body slammed into hers, and Kore, who had not been expecting it and thus not braced for it, was tackled to the floor. 

Later, she would explain the way she froze up to shock as Sam’s lips slammed into hers. He devoured her mouth like a man starved, tongue snaking out and pushing past her slackened jaw to lick into her mouth. He was rutting against her, the height difference meaning his… very apparent erection was grinding against her thighs. It all spanned just a few seconds before Kore came to her senses and bodily lifted Sam off of her and, with a clever twist and push, landed him on the bed. A quick brush of power had his hands and feet secured to the posts. 

Sam strained against the bonds, his teeth gnashing at the air and his eyes still boring into her. His hands clenched and unclenched as he tested the bonds, muscles straining as he put every ounce of strength into getting free. The bedposts groaned worryingly, but her grace fixed that problem quickly. 

Kore stared down at Sam, absolutely gobsmacked. 

What the FUCK , she thought, one hand coming up to brush against her mouth. 

She raised her wrist to her nose and took a sniff, before doing the same to her shirt and jacket. She didn't smell like a demon, did she? She was around her minions rather often, perhaps the smell wore off on her. 

Sam writhed on the bed, snarling noises leaving his mouth as he fought the bonds. He chanted over and over ‘ Luce Luce Luce ,” and, while she didn’t mind the nickname, the way he said it sounded… hungry. 

Kore eyed the human up and down, trying to decide what to do with him. With a wave, the room they were in was lined with sigils and runes to keep out all sorts of creatures, angels and demons. She included a ward that would make humans within 3 feet of the front door ‘remember’ that they had something else very important to do and completely disregard the door. She could have just made the door disappear, but couldn’t be bothered with moving the atoms around at the moment. 

After making sure Sam was wrapped up nice and tight, she took off to find his wayward brother and pet angel. 

Landing in the diner, she bit her lip to stop from snickering at Castiel’s ‘meaty’ fixation. Dean was facing her, but his attention was so fixed on the horseman that he didn’t notice her entrance. So she was privy to Famine’s monologue about how Dean was uber Depressed. 

“Ahh, I sent some of my demons to apprehend Sam Winchester for you, he’ll make quick work of his snack,” Famine said, a nasty grin on his face. Kore pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“I did not ask you to do that. I specifically remember asking for everyone to stay away from the Winchesters. Fuck why does no one ever fucking listen?” she bemoaned to herself, wiping her hands over her face in exasperation. Pulling her hands down from her face, she clapped once in indication. 

“Ok now, you’re going back in the box until I know what to do with you,” she informed the horseman. Before the creature had a moment to think, her grace reached out and wrapped itself around it, a sharp tendril slicing the ring off of its corporation and depositing it neatly into her palm. 

“Where’s Sam?” Dean demanded, pulling away from the demons, glaring this way and that, as if unsure who deserved his ire more. 

“In your hotel room, tied to the bed.” Kore informed, gesturing to the demons to make their exit with a firm head tilt. They quickly left through the back doors. Castiel, now free of the horseman’s influence, moved to stand at Dean’s side, watching her very cautiously. 

“What did you do to him?” the hunter asked angrily, hackles raising. Kore made a show of rolling her eyes extra slow. 

“He smelled a whiff of a demon on me and tried to pounce me, I’ll make sure to deodorize before our next visit.” she snipped at Dean. 

“You didn’t hurt him?” 

“Uh duh, dipshit.” 

Dean’s lip curled and Kore didn’t doubt that his sour disposition was less to do with her and more to do with the thorough soul gouging the horseman had given him. Didn’t mean she had to put up with his bullshit. 

“Now that you’re done with the 3rd degree, I'm out, I was busy before Sam’s call.” Kore hummed, brushing invisible dirt off her suit. Her wings stretched out behind her in a wide arch, preparing to leave, and she noted with a small amount of satisfaction before she took to the skies, that Castiel’s pitch-black wings had pulled back into a more submissive position instinctively. 

Ah, I still got it.  

And if she conveniently forgot to take down the warding around Sam’s room, warding that would - oh no!- keep Castiel and Dean from reaching him for some time.

Well… 

That was just deserts now wasn’t it? 

(AN: Have some sexy half-trueform art of Luce that I drew! 

Chapter Text

(AN: Hello! I recommend rewatching the interaction with Joshua in Darkside of the Moon before reading this chapter! It will help with the emersion and understanding the interaction between Luce/Winchesters in this chapter) 

It took almost the entire day for Dean and Castiel to get back into the room to free Sam. The wards had been strong and well made, giving the two a massive headache. When they did eventually get in, they found Sam just as Lucifer had said, tied up. But completely red in the face. 

“Not a word, Dean.”

“I don’t understand, why did you call Lucifer here then? Did the demon blood call to you that much?” Dean said, as he finished removing the cuffs and placing them on the side table. Sam sat up and rubbed at his tender wrists. 

“It-” Sam hesitated, cheeks still red, “It wasn’t the demon blood I craved, or at least, not what I craved the most.” His voice was quiet and filled with embarrassment. 

“Not the demon blood?” Dean asked, giving Sam a confused look. “Then what was it?” 

Sam could barely meet Dean’s eyes, but when he did, he gave Dean an imploring look, as if begging him not to make Sam say it. 

And it clicked for Dean, who felt a sharp stab of absolute bewilderment. 

“Wait wait wait… Lucifer ? Famine made you crave Lucifer ??” he said, his tone laced with both amusement and disbelief. 

“Deeaan,” Sam groaned, hands coming up to cover his heated face. Dean let out a sharp bark of laughter. 

“Ho-ly shit, it is Lucifer isn’t it?? She’s got you mad dog and on a leash!” 

Sam grumbled at his brother, words muffled and illegible behind his hands.

“Well, you’re one lucky son of bitch then, Sam.” Dean said

“What do you mean?” snipped Sam, moving his hands slightly so Dean could hear. 

“Lucifer thought you jumped her because she smelled like her demon minions, not because of your massive boner for her.” he teased, which earned him a pillow to the face. 

Sam knew that Dean was going to be insufferable about this. 

Kore felt the moment that Sam died. 

She was in the middle of typing up a few orders for the leader of her human sector to carry out when she felt the tether between them shudder and loosen, the tie of his mortal coil no longer holding down his soul and allowing it to drift off and up. 

She groaned, her head coming to rest in both hands as she thought of the clusterfuck that this situation could bring. Heaven would have Sam’s soul, and who knew what those feathered asshats would do with him and, more importantly, the information about her that he had. 

A tiny form crawled into her lap and Kore wasted no time grabbing onto the squishy body and squeezing. Ribbagoth gave some small content noises as she mushed his body around in her hands. 

“I need a vacation,” she grumbled, earning a look from Nick, who sat at his own desk on the other side of the room. 

Kore stood and placed Ribbagoth back on his pillows. “I have to run out and save some assholes, Man the fort and get me what you can from the Citarum River project, the clean-up group should have started today.” 

“I’ll call the supervisor and see what progress they made today, Master,” Nick replied with a nod, his black and teal eyes never leaving hers. Kore gave him a lethargic thumbs up in response before spreading her wings and taking flight. 

Using the GPS trackers still on Sam’s duffle and the Impala, Kore was able to get to their location quickly. Unfortunately, she was unable to get into the room, due to some clever warding, but it didn’t stop her from knocking on the door. 

There was some shuffling beyond the door, and it opened a crack, a very cautious and aggravated Castiel peeking through the crack. 

To the little angel’s credit, he opened the door further once he saw her, but did not step over the threshold, thus remaining in the wards. She gave a cursory once-over of the wards, making a show of eyeballing the weak points that she could blast through, before looking at Castiel pointedly. 

Castiel’s wings fluttered behind him, settling in a tense, but submissive, position. He was outmatched and acknowledged it, but stood his ground. Kore's red eyes twinkled with amusement and a small amount of admiration. 

“You know why I am here.” she stated plainly. 

“I do.” Castiel said, his voice low and gravely, eyes not leaving hers. 

“And you know that you have no hope of pulling them back without my help.” she also stated, giving the smaller angel a once over and taking note of his diminished state. He looked haggard and stretched thin, his grace clinging to his core in whisps and his wings disheveled and injured in place. It was a true testament of his resilience and battle prowess that he still lived after rebelling. Kore admired the little angel’s drive but she knew her admiration would not be welcomed by him. 

She raised a pointed eyebrow at him, looking along the doorframe and where the wards were anchored. Kore could black through them, but it would take the building down with it, and she’d rather not. 

With a clenched jaw, Castiel extended a sliver of grace to cut through the ward anchors that kept her out. With a nod, she walked over the threshold and into the room where Sam and Dean’s bodies lay. 

The empty body of Sam disturbed her more than she thought it would, the shine of his soul absent from the vessel and making it eerie and wrong . Blood still coated his front, and his flesh was torn apart by what appeared to be a shotgun blast. She placed her hand on Sam’s body’s chest, healing it with her grace and repairing some of the lingering damage caused by the life of a hunter. Some strained muscles, scar tissue impeding movement, and the beginnings of arthritis in his hands and knees. 

Kore turned and did the same with Dean’s body, healing and cleaning it. She even scrubbed his liver and kidneys down, bringing them back to peak performance. Dude needed to drink more water, the amount of kidney stones forming in there was bad for a man in his supposed prime. 

Kore looked down at her hand and noted that her hand was covered in Sam’s blood. She was fascinated by the sight. This was it, all she needed, but it was useless in its current form. She rubbed her fingers together, marveling at the sticky, smooth feeling. Her jaw clenched and the blood flaked off like ashes and blew away in the non-existent wind. 

“I can bring Sam back easily,” she said suddenly, causing Castiel, who had been staring at Dean, to look up at her. 

“But not Dean.” He finished. Kore nodded. 

“As you know, heaven has a greater claim on his soul than I do. I need him to… hold onto Sam for me to bring them both back.” 

“But they do not know that.” 

“Exactly.” 

“I will perform a spell to speak to Dean.” Castiel said, his eyes squinting as he concentrated on his Grace to locate the necessary ingredients to perform the ritual. He was gone in the next moment but returned a few minutes later with an armful of spell ingredients. 

She watched as he spoke to Dean, and prompted him to find Sam. The spell shorted out before he could tell him about bringing them back. 

“Your Grace, it's weak.” She stated, looking at the smaller angel up and down. Castiel cast her a glower. 

“I am aware,” he said flatly. Kore rolled her eyes long and hard before approaching the tense seraph. 

“I can help.” she offered, twiddling her fingers at him. The smaller angel gave her a long searching look before flicking his wings in a negative gesture. “Suit yourself.” 

The whole event was… well uneventful from her perspective. Kore was sure that Dean and Sam were having a hell of a time up in heaven. But watching their vessels while they dodged angels was like watching paint dry. 

After a long boring time of waiting, something happened. There was a flicker on the edge of her awareness, and she sunk her mind back into her trueform to see what it was. She could feel it, an angel, stretching down from heaven and towards them. 

The presence reached out and she met it halfway between heaven and earth.  

It was Joshua, the gardener of heaven. His grace was warm and earthy, and twined around hers in a way that… in a way that no other angel had in… in a long long time. His grace wrapped around hers in an old greeting, singing to her in welcome and love that made her vessel’s eyes sting. No words were spoken, but intent transferred through grace just the same. He had Sam and Dean’s souls wrapped in his grace and was ready to pass them to her. She tentatively swathed her grace around the smaller angel, flicking her essence along the back of his feathered head in greeting and taking the two souls from him with care. 

Joshua’s grace hummed with love and approval as he let the souls go, feathers brushing up against the front of her neck and chin in affection. 

It was an old greeting, one that had been used before the Fall and never since. The old gesture filled her with a nostalgic melancholy that she quickly buried in the depths of her mind for later unpacking. 

Kore pulled the souls down and slowly, remorsefully, detangled from the other angel. Joshua gave her a warm goodbye before retreating back into heaven. Kore pulled herself down and back fully into her vessel.

Her eyes blinked open, red eyes going from glazed to aware in an instant. Castiel was watching her, and could clearly see the two souls she now carried within her grace. 

Kore held her hands over Sam and Dean’s bodies and gently pushed the souls back into place. 

The two came to with a large gasp. They looked around wildly, only settling when they spotted the other. 

“You alright?” Sam asked his brother, patting down his chest. 

“Define alright” Dean replied, taking stock of his own body. The two looked around and spotted Kore and Castiel. Sam quickly stood, staring at Kore and his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. 

“Why didn’t you take my body while I was gone?” he said suddenly, still staring at her as if she was the most bizarre thing in the world. Which was rude. Kore raised an eyebrow sharply.

“Even with you no longer in the vessel, I cannot inhabit it without consent. Or else they would be growing empty vessels from scratch in heaven all the time.” she informed him. 

“What about our deal?” he continued, “More than 6 months have passed, but you haven't been here for any of it.” 

Kore clicked her tongue behind her teeth. “I realized you were never going to agree to help me, so I found someone who would.”

Sam stared at her in confusion. “Who? I thought I was your true vessel?”

“Oh you are, but you are not the only viable vessel, just the best out of the group.”

“ What?”

Kore huffed out a sigh and looked at Sam as if he was particularly dense. 

“I’ll say it slower: I. Found. Another. Vessel. ” she said, exaggeratingly slow and condescending. Sam ground his teeth. 

“Another vessel? Who?” 

“Why does it matter?” Kore asked, already back and inspecting her nails. “Sheesh, I came to help, not to be interrogated.”

“It matters,” growled Sam, eyes narrowing at her. Kore scoffed and chose to ignore him. She turned to Dean.

“Fun trip to heaven? It really oozes love and togetherness, don't it? Wanna hold hands and sing kumbaya?”

Dean gave her a grumpy look, his eyes flashing over to Sam before moving back to her. 

“Oof, sour puss, what's your deal?” she asked curiously. Sam looked nervously at Dean, who refused to meet his eyes. Her eyes jumped between the two of them. 

“Nothin', just had my eyes opened is all.” Dean finally bit out

“And that’s not ominous at all .” she replied, folding her arms in front of her. 

“My,” Sam started, before hesitating. He swallowed and started again, “My heaven memories were… hard.”

“Hard?” Dean snapped, “For who? Looks like you were having a great time, what with the other families and running away? Your greatest hits were all when you were gone, Sam.” Dean bit out, his eyes lighting up with fury. 

“It's not like that, Dean!” Sam protested, but his voice was weak. 

“Isn’t it?!” the older hunter yelled, his teeth gnashing and eyes bright and angry. 

Kore's eyes lit up as she remembered what had happened, and she decided to throw Sam a bone.

She threw her head back and laughed, loud and obnoxious, gaining the attention of all the others. Kore wiped at her eyes, her face still scrunched up with laughter as her gaze settled on Dean. 

“Whooooo boy that's a good one!” she wheezed. 

“What the hell are you laughing about?” Dean growled, his jaw and hands clenching. 

“You, dumbass!” she huffed, patting herself on the chest as she calmed down from her raucous laughter. “Falling for that trick? Fucking hilarious how ready you are to guzzle down heaven’s shit like public toilet. They barely have to raise a finger and you’re ready to jump ship huh? Shit, no fucking wonder your relationship is so threadbare and toxic if you’re this ready to throw it away without even a smidgen of logical thought.” 

“Luce…” Sam said, his voice broken and pleading. She sneered at Sam’s face, her gaze turning hard as she looked back at Dean. 

“You really are such a perfect fit for Michael, Dean. Throwing away your sibling at the first chance you get.” she spat at the ground at his feet.

“Luce, please, just explain.” Sam started again before Dean could retort, looking between her and Dean with sad, desperate eyes. 

“Think Dean,” she continued, ignoring Sam. ”You were in heaven, which is their domain. There is no nook or cranny they can’t manipulate to their liking, including personal heavens. You think they, beings millions and billions of years old, wouldn’t think to change up your heavens on the off-chance you died before show time? I thought you were smarter than that.” She sneered, “Apparently not .”

Dean, who was still standing at the door, looked stupefied. 

She ground her teeth and thought things through. Dean was, by far, the most important thing in Sam’s life. And Sam, right now, wanted desperately for Dean to forgive him for past mistakes. Dean was also key to a lot of future plans she had, and having him whole and healthy, and not this depressed, let-me-fall-on-the-sword-in-a-weird-hero/suicide-way man that he currently was. The Winchesters, while annoying as shit, were favored by God, which meant impossible luck and impossible odds. 

Odds she sure as shit didn’t want against her favor. 

Kore figured that, if it meant safety and these two idiots on her side in the long run, a little mooching up didn’t hurt. 

Kore heaved out a long, heavy sigh, her hand coming up to rub at her nose in a gesture that was not quite a habit. With a small wave of her hand, she banished Sam and Castiel to Bobby’s home. 

Dean let out a squawk but calmed down after she told him where she sent them. 

“Why did you send them away?” he asked. 

“For privacy, Dean. Thought you’d appreciate it,” she said, continuing on before he could respond.

“Listen Dean, you’re going through a lot. A LOT. The shit on your plate is more than one human can handle, and you have no healthy coping mechanisms -no no shut up - you don't!” she pinched her fingers together in a shushing motion as Dean went to speak up. “Burying the bad feelings in food, sex, and drinks is not healthy, you logically know this but it’s easier than confronting things. You have trust issues up the ass and are spiraling so far into depression that you’re not thinking straight.” she pointed at her own temple to exaggerate the point. 

“I’m. Fine.” he said with a stubborn hiss. But Kore could see it in his eyes, he was close to breaking. This trip to heaven was the straw that threatened to break the camel’s back. Kore called up some of her human memories, long long ago when she was… human for a lack of better word. She took deep even breaths and watched as he unconsciously matched her. 

“It’s candid conversation time, Dean Winchester. Sit your ass down .”

Dean, bewildered and just a smidgen desperate, walked over and sat down. 

Kore came over and pulled a chair up and sat down in front of him. She pulled up more memories from when she was a human and had to go through a crisis intervention class for work. The first step: building rapport. 

“Dean,” she started. “Let me just say before anything that I have been around for a long long time. I have seen a lot of shit, and I know a lot of shit. Also, I can see you, your soul, aura, and energy. I can feel your emotions and smell them. An added perk of being me is that I can tell when someone is lying, to me or to themselves. You are sick Dean, not in a way that makes you a bad person, but makes you feel bad. I have been hanging around you and Sam for a while, and while I'm not here all the time, I'm here long enough to pick up on things. I want to help.”

“Why?” Dean asked, looking down at his hands. His voice was horse and gruff.

“Truly? Because I can,” she replied. She gave an impish grin, “and sticking it to my older brother is an added bonus.” Dean let out a snort, not looking up. 

She reached out and placed a hand on his, stopping him from picking at the skin around his nails in a nervous habit. The rapport established she went on to the next step, which was Validation. 

“As I said before Dean, you’re going through some serious shit. You are one human in the middle of a war that's been waging for millions of years, between celestial beings larger than life and with powers beyond anything you or your brother have handled before. So far, you’ve gotten by well, you’re holding out a lot longer than any other human could have. It's a credit to you and your incredible will. But you’re tired, you’re depressed, and it’s going to consume you. That is no way to live, Dean.” She watched the tendons of his neck flex as he gulped. 

“What else can I do,” he said in a whisper. Kore mentally cheered that Dean was letting her in like this, the normally stubborn man’s walls crumbling down like dry sand. It was more a testament of how shitty things were going for him more than her prowess in crisis intervention, but she’d take it. 

“You can let me help.” she said simply. “I’m a major player in this apocalypse game bullshit, and I got a full hand. I have the resources, connections, and influence to take care of things. Let me deal with Michael, heaven, and hell, you and your brother go on and do your normal routine.” 

“How can I trust you?”

“I-” she hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek as she thought of what to say. “I have no intention of hurting humanity, Dean. Do I like them? Absolutely not. But I value my life and comfort more than I do sticking it to my old man. So I'm settling for cleaning this world up and finding happiness where I can.”

“I’ve seen you,” Dean spoke up, “On the TV, the clean-up projects you are doing around the world.” 

Kore hummed, “I like my home to be pretty, I’m picky like that.” 

“You’re making demons clean up sewage.” 

“They like it, the creeps.” Dean huffed out a laugh at her response and Kore took it as her chance to lean in and hit Dean with her trump card.

“Hear me Dean, I swear to you, if you put your faith in me , put your trust in me , you wont regret it.” She watched as Dean struggled with himself, and, after a long long moment, Dean seemed to sag in on himself, his shoulders and body slumping forward. Kore came closer and let his head rest on her abdomen as he came undone, running her nails lightly along his scalp in a soothing motion. 

She sat there a long time and let Dean weep into her very expensive designer suit jacket and marveled at her own emotional growth. Just a few months ago she would have absolutely balked at the thought of helping a human, let alone letting them touch her. 

Look at her! Growing up and being nice to others, Michael and the other angels would have an aneurysm. 

After a long time, she felt Dean settle on her, his breathing evening out. She peeked down and noted that the hunter had fallen asleep. Cuffing a little, she soothed her grace along his body, sending him into a deeper, more peaceful sleep. With a quick heave, she pulled him into her arms and flew off to Bobby’s and brought the Impala and their belongings with her. 

Kore settled Dean into his bed at the house, tucking him in and taking off his shoes. She made a note to find a good, supernatural-aware therapist for the man. And she would also be checking in with him and getting a plan together for his mental health.

She sent off a small thought to Castiel, telling him where his charge was, before taking off back to her desk, patting herself on the back for a job well done. 

Flying back to her flat, Kore shook out her wings after her feet touched the floor. The taste of Dean’s depression hung in the back of her throat like a bad smell. She smacked her lips as if to dispel the taste. 

With purpose, she walked over to her desk and picked up her phone off the desk. Snapping it open, she dialed all of her generals in a conference call. 

Dean's crisis averted, and her earlier anger came back in full force. 

“Find the human hunters by the name of Walt and Roy, and bring them to me alive and in fairly good condition.” She hissed into her phone, her red eyes taking a dark, murderous glint. As much as she was angry with Sam right now, he was still HERS and the only way his soul would leave this fucking planet is if she damn well did it her DAMN self! 

“This way Father,” the demon hissed in delight, leading her to a large warehouse. “We have misssslead the humansss, they will come here thinking they are hunting a monsssster~” the demon gleefully twisted and withered in place, its vessel twisting and turning in inhuman ways with the demon’s glee. Kore grinned, she liked this confrontation much better than what she had in mind. She reached out and pet the demon’s head, her nails leaving little red trails on the skin. The demon’s essence flexed and pushed up into her hand, like a cat begging for attention. 

“Good work, this pleases me,” she purred. The demon let out a warble, their vessel contorting more in their glee. She leaned down and planted a kiss on the demon’s forehead, imbuing it with the mark of her favor, which caused the demon to shriek in delight, the vessel’s skin bubbling as its essence curled and slithered under the surface. Kore briefly wondered if the demon would accidentally implode its vessel at this rate. 

“Go now, tell the others I am not to be disturbed.” 

“Yessssss, Father~” the demon then turned and left, leaving her to her own devices. 

Kore entered the warehouse and gave it a quick look. It was a standard storage warehouse, with high ceilings, cement floors, and tall, load-bearing pillars throughout. It would do well as a meeting point. With a flick of her wrist, a nice chair and table were made, with a comfortable throw rug under to keep her feet from getting chilly on the concrete. 

She sat down and snapped up some reports from her desk to look at while she waited for the humans to arrive. 

Just after dusk, she heard the sound of a car driving down the road a few miles away, and heading in her direction. Her lips quirked up as she waited for them to get to the warehouse, her grace sneaking out and keeping tabs. She could feel them, their souls felt like good people but had cracks and dim parts that came from a life of hunting. She was surprised that they had such clean souls, given that they had murdered her Sam. Her lip curled at the thought. 

Walt and Roy walked into the warehouse, guns raised and recording of an exorcism ready. They had followed the trail, the dead bodies that were strung up around the state, to here. Evidence showed it was just one demon doing the killings. For what reason? They didn’t know. But it was a demon so the reason didn’t matter as long as they got the damn thing in the end. 

The two shined their lights around in the dark warehouse, noting with anxiety the lack of… presence. The warehouse was barren, but a small dim light drew them to the back. 

Once they passed the last pillar hiding the source of light, they paused, dread filling them. 

A woman sat there. 

She was pale, so pale she bordered on translucent. She wore a white pantsuit and was sitting at a desk, seeming to shuffle through papers under the low light of a single lamp. 

The sight was eerie and the hairs on the back of their necks rose along with their heart rates. 

And then the woman looked up at them and smiled.  

Fire raged around the interior of the warehouse, pillars were smashed and rubble covered the floor. The two humans lay on the ground, panting and bleeding, terror in their eyes as she walked towards them. Kore had quite a bit of fun chasing them around the warehouse, blocking off their exits one by one until they were trapped with her. 

“No, I'm going to let you live, not that you deserve it,” she said with a sneer, her heels clicking on the ground. 

“Why?”

Kore stopped next to Walt and crouched, her hand grasping the human around the throat and hoisting him up into the air. Walt gasped and clawed at her hand, feet kicking out and slamming into her stomach and knees. Kore's lip quirked up at the sound of his toes breaking against her body. She brought the now purple-faced man closer to her, face to face, his toes brushing the ground. 

Kore relaxed the tight hold she had on her grace, allowing the free-flowing power to change her vessel to fit just a bit better. Teeth to elongate into needles, multiple eyes formed, and limbs elongated into monstrous proportions.

Flames curled around her monstrously large form, throwing her body into sharp relief. Arms fanned out, each finger tipped with claws that could tear through flesh like it was air. her serpentine face hissed, jaw unhinging and opening wide to reveal rows and rows of serrated, needle-like teeth that trailed all the way down into her throat. A roar more horrendous than any other ripped itself from their throat, the sound pushing out in waves that collapsed buildings and flung debris far into the wind. 

Kore loosened her hold around Walt’s neck, letting her other sets of hands come up to grasp at his legs and arms. She noted, with both satisfaction and disgust, that both humans had relieved themselves in their pants at the sight of her. She grabbed up the second human in another set of arms, bringing the two up to her face.

“Sam Winchester is mine and no others. He is mine to keep , mine to kill . You and no other human or creature will touch him or face my wrath. He is the only thing standing between me and humanity, he is your only chance at survival. You will go and spread the news to all other human hunters of his, and his brother’s, immunity. Spread the word: Sam Winchester. Is. MINE! ” 

With a disgusted flick of her hands, she cast the two humans away from her, their bodies hitting the concrete with a sick thud. The two scrambled up, dazed and scared. A loud, piercing shriek from her, one that rattled them down to their bones, got them sprinting out of the warehouse. 

Slowly, she folded back down, her body shrinking and turning back into her human form. 

Kore brushed some dust from the debris off her suit, her grace flaring out to snuff the flames and fix the broken architecture. 

She left the warehouse feeling pleased and eager to see how things would play out from here. 

Chapter Text

Meredith Beck was 38. Mrs Beck was married, had 3 wonderful children and a very successful career as a personal therapist and crisis counselor. She was well known and well sought after, her darker past made her easier to relate to and able to understand her clients all the better. 

But she was not always in a good position. You see, 9 years, 11 months and 29 days ago, Meredith was a very very different person. She was a criminal, you see, heavy drug abuse that started at 20 and led into a life of petty crime. Meredith Beck, or at the time Meredith Davids, would partake in armed robberies in order to feed this habit. It was wrong of her, and she knew it, but she didn’t care. Not at the time anyway. But that all changed when, in a heist gone wrong, Meredith killed someone. It wasn’t intentional, a heated confrontation that turned physical had her trigger finger more twitchy than normal, and she ended up shooting a bystander that had come to play hero. 

She had run and hid, of course, but she knew she would be going to jail for life for her crimes. And Meredith Beck desperately didn’t want that. So she took the advice of one of her more shady friends, and went to a crossroads and buried her box of odd trinkets. 

The woman that had shown up promised her freedom, and Meredith had grasped it with both hands. The next day, a killer was convicted, and Meredith was free. 

She set her life straight after; she got clean, went to college and got a degree in psychology. She became a therapist and dedicated the last 4 years post-collage to helping other people overcome their addictions. 

But now she was here. The sounds of Hell’s hounds called outside her door, the loud sound echoing off the walls and in Meredith’s ears. They sounded… excited . She breathed heavy and rocked back and forth where she sat, her eyes closed as the howls ripped through the air, so loud and powerful she could hear nothing else. Her hands clasped at her ears and she squeezed her eyes shut as the sounds came closer, so close she could feel the disturbance in the air. 

And then it stopped. 

Meredith shook in her spot, waiting for death. But it didn’t come. She peaked her eyes open, the hounds that had been haunting her footsteps for the last month were gone. 

In their place sat a woman. 

She was as pale as snow and with eyes as red as embers. She was beautiful in an inhuman way, like a marble statue. Meredith looked at her with wide, fearful eyes…

And the woman smiled. 

Kore shuffled her papers around, providing the pen to the stunned-looking human. 

“So, as a recap, you sign on under my service, an uninterrupted 8 hours of your time, 4 days a week for the rest of your life or a minimum of 30 years from the signing date in case you try to die early. I will discuss with you later what happens to your soul if you try that . Ahem, Accommodations can be made for holidays, pregnancy, sickness, and emergencies, but will be verified and approved by me. You are no longer under human law surrounding mandated reporting, HIPPA, and licensure. But you will not reveal anything you hear from those I appoint under your care unless I explicitly ask or state that you can.”

Compensation: your soul won't go to Hell for eternity to suffer in torment. Upon your death, your soul will be held by me under stasis until the end of time. Think of it like a very long nap. Much better than eternal suffering if you ask me . Anyway, You will also be given a yearly salary of 80k with a 5k bonus for each client I assign you. Pay will be increased or decreased depending on performance.”

You will also be dropping all other clients you currently have, you may stay at your current residence, but, if required, will be moved to a more accessible location.” 

 “Any questions about things we have or have not discussed today?” Kore asked the woman, pointing at the highlighted spots for her to sign. 

To the woman’s credit, she didn’t hesitate to sign the contract. 

“My family, they won't know?” Meredith asked.

“Not unless you tell them.” Kore replied simply. She placed the paperwork in a manila envelope and sealed it.  

“I’ll see you on Monday, read up.” Kore said, flashing the woman a smile before disappearing, a stack of books on supernatural entities was left in her place. 

After her meet up with Meradith, Kore did some work. Her demon PR team, headed by Crowley, had been hard at work recruiting humans to her cause, making everything from pamphlets to news articles about the company and its causes. Bills were being passed slowly but steadily to not rile up the general populace. She was starting the reform in the US, where her headquarters were located, and once she had the government where she wanted it, she planned to branch out to other countries. Taking them over one by one from the inside. Doing so so sweetly and gently that the humans would never know she pulled the strings unless she wanted them to.  

Her demons were very pleased by the plan, the act of subterfuge tickling the desire for chaos within them. 

She had already begun clean-ups in other countries, starting early on laying a smooth foundation for her later subjugation. There were plans in the works to break ground on new headquarters in the UK, China, and Australia in a few years. She looked forward to the challenge. 

Her demon army slowly but steadily expanded, more and more demons were coming up through her opened hell portal and knelt at her feet, subjecting themselves to her control and mastery. 

At this point, over 100 thousand demons bore her mark on their essence. 

And the human side was quickly catching up. 

Nick, the dear, was very good at keeping her up to date with the human side of things, answering calls, and sending emails to the right people to get shit done. He threw himself into the work with the fever of a man trying to outrun his demons, and he sure was fast. 

She would find him staring at her often, his black and teal eyes boring into her from across the room. Kore didn’t mind him looking at her, as long as he kept being useful. 

Nick had completely settled into his new living space, and even began to decorate it here and there. Where he was getting the animal bones, she had no idea, but he seemed very fond of the ‘antlers’. After his arrival and the deal they had struck, she had kept her promise to take him shopping. She gave him a dress code for when he was ‘on the job’ or presenting himself in public. He was a representative of Mourning Star, and, in extension, her. So he had to look the best. And Kore went with him to make sure he did, personally picking out the majority of his wardrobe in a shopping spree fit for cinema.  

Nick did look rather dashing in what she picked out; a pair of black slacks, a deep maroon dress shirt with golden embroidery, and a beautiful black and gold vest corset that complimented his form. He was well groomed as well, his hair combed and beard trimmed. A pair of gold studs sat on his ears and a few gold rings adorned his fingers, one in the shape of her mark. 

All in all, Nick looked very presentable and Kore was proud of her handiwork. Nick seemed to appreciate it as well. He did not, however, appreciate having to see Meradith once a week for the foreseeable future. He had protested at first, but a sharp word and stern glare from her cut it short. 

As Meradith’s first assigned patient, Kore got to oversee his treatment and progress. She kept out of his sessions, leaving what was said between the two private, but discussed his case with Meradith at length after hours. There were some serious roadblocks when it came to his mental health, but Kore was confident that, with persistence, they would see results. She was determined to see improvement. After all, a happy man is an efficient one, and she didn't want her assets breaking down on her at inopportune moments. 

After a trial run with Nick and Meridith, Kore was confident enough to introduce her and Dean to one another. Which meant kidnapping Dean and locking him in the room with the therapist until he talked. 

It worked, and now Dean was also seeing Meradith weekly. Kore kept an eye on his progress as well. 

Kore was feeling incredibly pleased with her progress, and, barring any significant set-backs, predicted her date of U.S. complete take-over within the year. 

It was all coming together quite nicely.

Some weeks later, mid-May, a streak of light zipped across the earth like a comet, burning white hot in its brilliance. It cut through the upper atmosphere, the sound barrier booming behind it as it accelerated faster and faster. It dipped over the Americas, taking a sharp turn downwards towards the ground before leveling out just a few hundred feet above the ground. The force of its flight left a clear path behind it, setting off car alarms, rattling windows, and blowing up loose debris like a tornado. 

It didn’t stop or slow down, even as a large warehouse loomed in front of it. The light blasted through the warehouse like tissue paper, imploding the building and sending pieces of wood, concrete, and metal flying for miles in every direction. 

Lucifer banked and took to higher skies, three humans wrapped safely in her grace. 

And a very very angry Michael was left behind. 

Kore landed, once again, in Bobby’s home, causing papers to go flying and Bobby to begin cursing up a storm. 

“Goddamn it! I Just organized that damn stack of papers!” the older hunter yelled, picking up a glass from where it had toppled over. Kore gave the man a smirk and twiddled her fingers at him, her grace reaching out and sorting the papers within a second. The older man grumbled in thanks, peering over at the three lumps groaning on the floor next to her. 

“Well I'll be damned.” he huffed out.  

“Oh no, you’re heaven-bound for sure with a soul like that, unless you decide to go on a homicidal killing spree but I don't recommend it,” she said quipped offhandedly, turning back to the three men on the floor. Bobby gaped at her back and she could feel the stunned surprise off of him. 

She nudged one lump with her high-heeled foot before Bobby could speak up, pulling a groan out of it. 

“I wasn’t that rough, damn.” she huffed, rolling her eyebrows. The three brothers all took their time standing up.

Adam Milligan was just surprisingly pretty for a human, he stood and stared at her in complete confusion. 

“Wh-what happened?” he asked, looking between her and the Winchesters. Said brothers looked up and spotted her, a look of apprehension dawning on both of their faces. Albeit for very different reasons. 

“Hello Adam,” Kore said, looking the youngest over closely. 

“You three look like shit,” Bobby cut in, walking over to Sam and Dean and looking them over. 

“Yeah, well, Zackiriah was being a dick.” Dean huffed out. Kore wasted no time reaching out with her grace and healing the two brothers from what the lesser angel had inflicted on them. GI bleeds were nasty and prone to infection, so it was good that she was there to heal them. 

“Who are you?” Adam finally spoke up, staring at Kore. She smirked at the youngest Winchester. 

“Take a guess,” she purred. Sadly, Sam ruined her fun. 

“This is Lucifer, she isn’t like what heaven says.” 

“Finally figure that one out, Sam?” Kore sneered in a snide voice, waving her hand at him when we went to respond. “Sush, I'm just here to keep these two,” she pointed at Dean and Adam, “Out of Michael’s hands. The longer he doesn’t have a vessel, the longer I have to shut this bullshit down without having to dodge his fists.” 

Kore clicked her tongue in thought, looking over the two Michael Swords with a critical eye. She eyed the runes along their ribs, noting the sequence Castiel had picked and approving of the general protections he had woven in along with the shadowing of their essence. 

“I will be making you both talismans that will stop angels from popping in on your dreams or being able to read your minds. Should help keep you away from them for a little while longer.” 

“Sam getting one too?” Dean asked. 

“No, heaven doesn’t care what happens to him as long as they get the two of you.” she informed the man, “I wouldn't put it past them to use him as leverage but most are too scared of me to get close enough.” 

“You’re the Devil,” Adam cut into the conversation, his eyes never leaving her. Kore turned her attention back to the third Winchester. 

“That is one of the things they call me.” 

“Why did you save me?” Adam demanded.  

“Didn’t I just say why?” Kore sighed, already bemoaning having to deal with another hard-headed idiot Winchester. 

“That you don’t want Michael to have me as a vessel.” the younger man said, sounding disbelieving. Kore nodded in affirmation. 

“I'm not keen on the whole apocalypse plan, so I'm taking preventative measures.” 

“Why wouldn’t you want the apocalypse?” 

Kore groaned long and low, her head tilting back as she let out her exasperation. 

“I'm not explaining this again, ask your brothers.” she said. Adam looked over his shoulder at the other two men, as if asking for reassurance. When Dean nodded, Adam took a step back, but his eyes never left hers. Funny how fast human relationships develop. She was almost certain from her previous knowledge that Adam was quite un-enamored with the two older men before. Nothing quite like trauma bonding, and having a seraph twist your insides into literal knots to get his way must have lit a fire under him. 

“What now?” Adam asked, looking between the three hunters and her. “And what about my Mom?”

“Now? You stick with Sam and Dean, have them teach you how to defend yourself and ward against angels. You’ll be up shit creek without it.” Kore replied. “As for your Mom, there is nothing we can do except keep you out of their hands and out of their influence. They can’t blackmail you with your Mom if they cannot find or contact you, so the best thing is for you to lay as low as possible.” 

Adam’s face pinched, clearly not liking his options.  

Kore pulled her hands together in a cupped motion, concentrating her grace in the palms of her vessel’s hands. Swirls of light danced along her skin, bright whites, pinks, and blues mixing and consolidating into two smooth oval shapes at the center of her palm. The light dimmed and took on a hard, rocky form with groves and dips in the shapes of runes and sigils. The two pendants sat, one in each palm, their colors swirling lightly until the moment slowed down and the light solidified completely, leaving the two stones behind. She held out one to each Michael Sword, who took them carefully. 

“Wear these and your dreams will be undisturbed,” she said, brushing off her hands. The two brothers nodded to her words and held the pendants close. “Good, now I'm off. Please at least try to stay off of heaven's radar,” she said, giving the three an exasperated look. 

Dean’s lips quirked at her tone as he gave her a cheeky grin. 

“You know us Luce, careful is our middle name.” 

“Yeah fuck that.” she said flatly, causing him to laugh heartily. He waved her off. 

“I’ll see you later this week for pickup,” he said, giving her one last friendly smile. Kore gave Dean a considering look, confused but not bothered by his more friendly demeanor. Perhaps saving their asses more than once has finally put her in his good graces. 

With a final goodbye to the hunters, Kore left, not noticing the jealous look Sam had been wearing. 

Michael sat at the edge of heaven, eyeing the Earth pensively. He sat in his true form, which was rather enormous and imposing. Larger than Jupiter, Michael’s form was the largest of all angels, and its brilliance rivaled the sun. He resembled a living flame, his form flickering along the edges, embers sizzling and popping in the air as he moved.  Three sets of large wings, the color of fire, sat on his back, each feather tipped in bronze and built for fighting. He boasted thousands of fiery arms and legs, with five heads that each sat in a different direction. A raven, a humanoid, a lion, an oxen, and a hound. His humanoid face sat center at this time as his main appearance, the others taking point at the behind, sides, and top. His main colors were a fiery red, with yellows, oranges, and bronze—a stark difference from Lucifer’s form.  

 Dozens of ice-blue eyes glared at the ridges and valleys that made up the Americas as if his gaze alone could scorch them to nothing. A small part of him wished he could release his fury. 

 The apocalypse was going poorly. His plans, and those of his underlings, were being thwarted and delayed, his true vessel slipping away time and time again and delaying his final fight with Lucifer. 

Lucifer. 

Just their name sparked anger in Michael’s core these days. 

They were behaving oddly. Michael knew that, after millions of years of isolation, his sibling would no longer behave the same as before, but he did not expect the strangeness that they exhibited. 

His sources say that Lucifer, after gaining a female vessel, has been making moves in the human political environment, passing legislation and taking control of human governments from the inside. 

Michael, in the sanctity of his own mind, truly did not care what Lucifer did with the human populace. There were many, and their governments and beliefs changed and morphed over time, but they all died eventually and came to heaven for judgment. 

Michael felt the approach of Raphael, their grace reaching out to graze over his own in a brief greeting before pulling back. 

“What ails you, Brother?” Raphael asked, their voice soft and quiet, like the brush of feathers over one another. 

“The end of days is upon us. Lucifer has risen but their plans have seemed to take an unprecedented turn.”

“Unprecedented yes,” Raphael responded, gliding over to Michael’s side in a quiet shuffle of feathers and scales. “Their work with the humans is surprising, given their hatred of the species.” 

Michael hummed in affirmation, “They are plotting something, I just cannot tell what yet.”  

Raphael, whose form resembled a storm cloud rolling in and over itself, settled next to Michael’s fiery form. 

“Perhaps,” they breathed, “A closer eye is needed.” Michael’s eyes flicked over to Raphael’s green ones in curiosity. 

“You suggest I leave heaven?” he asked. 

“You have sat afar for many years now, Brother, a clear view would help you see what we are missing.” Michael hummed in response, their gaze going back to the Earth and its lush green-blue surface. 

“Perhaps.”  

Kore smiled pleasantly for the camera, posing for the photographer with a group of volunteers. She was at a large beach on the east coast for a clean up project, her PR department was there along with some photographers. They were taking photos and videos for their website launch later that week, along with some articles that were going to be published in environmental journals worldwide. 

The PR team had an idea for a slow but powerful build in their public image and Kore approved it after their pitch. At the moment, they were building goodwill with the public through outreach programs and clean-up projects. Many of her human employees were going around various cities and holding workshops and informative classes on waste management, recycling, and reducing one's carbon footprint. They were bright and catchy, with games and prizes to keep the hairless apes entertained while learning something useful. So far, participation in these workshops and classes has been a surprising success, the lure of shiny colors and free things too good for humans to pass up.  

The projects were going well, too. There were currently 3 large clean-ups in progress, two beaches and one river, each staffed with around 100-300 volunteers and employees depending on location size. 

Kore was currently at the largest clean-up, which was at Manzanita Beach in Oregon. Plastic, glass, scrap, and bird shit covered the beachfront as far as the human eye could see, creating a rather disgusting view that made Kore's  grace roll in her vessel with anger. 

Along the slightly cleaner parts of the beach, tents were set up every 50 meters, each stocked with water and snacks, along with trash bags, gloves, safety glasses, and trash pickers for people to use freely.  

Kore was right there with them, wearing a pair of white rubber overalls, gloves and safety glasses. She picked up trash with the group, helping clean tons of waste and get it sorted into piles based on recycling type. Her PR team stuck close to her, taking pictures of everything they could.  

Crowley stood at the edge of the beach, tailored suit immaculately pressed, a sun umbrella in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. 

“This is a good look for you.” Crowley teased her as she bent to pick up a large hunk of metal, causing her to clack her trash picker at him a few times threateningly until he took off to the relative safety of the nearest tent. He was an amusing little shit and he knew it, much to her dismay. 

The pickup went very well, and by sundown, the beach was looking a lot cleaner. They had been able to get the largest pieces of waste, the only thing left over was the small micro-plastics and shards of metal and glass. A small army of sifters was scheduled for the next day to filter out the sand and make it safe for public use. 

Kore was very pleased with the work that had been done and made sure to commend the group as a whole with a very rousing speech that had the humans cheering and clapping. 

Her employed humans fed and watered the volunteers before sending them home. 

A fer hours later, her team of PR minions sat with her in a conference room, going over the images and content they had gained from that day from all three locations. 

“We have a packet we will be releasing to four major News outlets, as well as a few dozen online forums with notable traffic. The goodwill we have garnered today will carry us for a few months.” Crowley informed her, laying out the selections of images and numbers from today. She idly flipped through the before and after images, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the restoration. 

“Good,” she finally said, to the relief and pride of the group. “Schedule the release and keep an eye on the numbers. Send these images to the recruitment team as well, these before and after will go on our next set of pamphlets.”  

“Very good, my Lord.” Crowley agreed, taking the packet back. The meeting was dismissed. She motioned for Crowley to stay behind. 

“You wanted to speak with me, My Lord?” Crowley asked as the other demons and humans left the room, a smidgen of sass laced in his voice. 

“Yes, I wanted your input on something.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I am thinking of making a bigger move into the human political scene. And I need a… grand entrance. ” 

Crowley smiled.

A week later, several bills passed into law, and SIN, the Sustainable Initiatives Network, went live. With Lucifer as the header. 

Kore sat in on the Senate meeting that passed these laws, patiently waiting through to the announcements before making her presence known. 

"Ladies and gentlemen,” the Senate president Cambien started, “before we proceed to the next item on our agenda, we have a special announcement from the newfound President of the Sustainable Initiatives Network. I recognize Luce Mourning. You have the floor."

Cameras flashed as Kore walked to the podium. She was wearing her most stunning pantsuit yet: White dress pants and a white long-sleeve, high-collared blouse, all made of rare and lovely silk that melded around her body like a liquid. The arms and shoulders were loose, as well as the pants from the knee down, giving an almost flowy bell bottom look. But along her bust and down to her hips, the silk clung like a second skin. This highlighted her curves in n lethal way, but the cut was so modest and professional it left you biting your tongue. 

She took the podium, adjusted the mic, and addressed the room. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the esteemed government body, distinguished guests, and citizens of our great nation,” She began, her voice sweet and low. Her silver earrings glinted in the light as she tilted her head back, highlighting the pale line of her neck and collarbones. Her white skin was illuminated in the bright light of the Senate floor, giving her an ethereal glow.

“Today marks a pivotal moment in our shared history, a moment where the winds of change blow through the corridors of power, and a new era dawns upon us. I stand before you as the harbinger of progress, the steward of a brighter and greener future for our beloved land. My name is Luce Mourning, and I am honored to address you as the newly appointed President of the Sustainable Initiatives Network.”

Kore gave her best, ‘I’m proud of us’ look, softening her eyes and smiling as she continued.

“In recent days, we have witnessed the culmination of our collective aspirations—a set of groundbreaking laws that herald a paradigm shift in our approach to environmental stewardship. These laws, forged with wisdom and foresight, represent a pledge to safeguard our planet for generations yet unborn. They stand as a testament to our commitment to healing the wounds inflicted upon our Mother Earth.

“I stand here not as a mere servant of the people but as the embodiment of a vision—one that champions sustainability, conservation, and a harmonious coexistence with the natural world. Our committee, comprised of experts and visionaries, has worked tirelessly to craft legislation that not only addresses the pressing issues of today but lays the foundation for a thriving tomorrow.”

“Charisma,” she gave a grin, “my esteemed colleagues, is not a virtue to be underestimated. It is the force that galvanizes nations and propels them towards greatness. Today, I bring you a promise wrapped in the mantle of charisma—an assurance that under my leadership, we will not only adhere to the letter of the law but exceed its expectations. Our commitment to the environment will be unwavering, and our actions will speak louder than any words uttered in this chamber. 

Our message is simple, yet profound. Through the tireless efforts of our committee, we shall foster a collective consciousness that recognizes the delicate balance between progress and preservation. We shall champion innovation that begets sustainability and embrace policies that transcend party lines, for the love of our planet knows no political affiliation.

Kore lifted both of her hands and addressed the room, and cameras, at large. “As we embark on this journey together, let us celebrate the dawn of a new era—a time when environmental protection is not a burden but a shared responsibility. Let the name of Luce Mourning be synonymous with progress, and let the Sustainable Initiatives Network be the vanguard of a legacy that transcends our time.

In unity, we shall stand. In stewardship, we shall thrive. Welcome, my fellow citizens, to the beginning of a green revolution—an age where the echoes of our deeds resonate through the ages.

Thank you, and may the winds of change carry us towards a brighter and more sustainable future.”

Kore received a standing ovation, the sounds of the enthusiastic applause roaring in her ears. Kore smiled pleasantly and waved for the cameras and the sea of pitch-black eyes staring back at her. 

Chapter Text

WARNING: GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF VIOLENCE, THREATS OF VIOLENCE, THREATS OF ASSAULT, THREATS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, GORE, GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF GORE, MINOR CHARACTER DEATH

Umbrella in hand, Kore walked down the street, sipping at her fancy brewed coffee and watching the rain trail down the outside of her translucent umbrella. 

A sudden chirpy song had her stop in her tracks and peer down at the rain-soaked cement. 

There was a common American toad, sitting happily on the sidewalk, soaking in the warm rain and damp air. 

She idly stared down at the toad in her path, the small creature croaking without care. She crouched next to it. Coffee vanished, and one hand came out to gently trail down its back from head to butt. The toad's eyes closed and it pushed up into her finger, little legs extending as it raised its head higher and higher. Kore's lips quirked at the creature and, without much thought, she scooped it up and continued her walk down the street. 

Kore didn’t look up as she walked, any colliding traffic jumping aside as soon as her aura touched them. 

She moved and rolled the toad around gently in her hand, its wet underbelly feeling smooth and bumpy at the same time. Its chunky belly sat flat in her palm, its large sides rolled out flat on her hand like a pancake. Its eyes were round and shiny, its mouth large and wide, its little legs long and slimy. 

Its eyes blinked at her, one at a time. Not a thought seemed to reflect behind its gaze…

…

Kore was enamored. 

With a pep in her step, she flew off back to her home and into her room. 

She walked to the outermost wall of her main living space, assessing the wall and the space for what she needed. With a wave of her hand, the space and its items began to bend and morph . 

The space expanded outwards, forming into another separate area entirely. The two side walls were now lined with rows of empty tanks, layered and rowed in a honeycomb pattern, each framed by beautifully stained dark oak planks.  

The outermost wall, where the window was, was the show-stopper. From floor to ceiling sat a giant aquarium, which currently sat empty. Kore's hands itched to find live specimens of interesting and beautiful creatures to fill them. She would ask them to come with her, of course, she’d rather not listen to her pets whining and crying about being kidnapped when she was trying to relax in her private area, thank you. 

Striding over to the first of the combs, Kore opened the glass door panel and looked into the space. It was a good 20-gallon tank, more tall than wide. With a wiggle of her fingers, she transformed the inside; the leaf litter and cork substrate sat a good 6 inches deep, good for his burrowing needs, with a pond area to the right side of the enclosure. Several large, thick branches covered in moss and mushrooms leaned against the walls and back, giving the toad something to climb on. Long-leaved grasses dotted the inside, with a few aquatic plants added to the pond. The pond was nice as well, with a filtered waterfall trickling down a series of stones, and a few small guppies in the pond for a pop of life and color, even though the toad would more than likely eat them. 

She faced the toad towards the enclosure, letting him take a look inside. After a few moments of stillness, the toad croaked loudly and hopped inside, coming to a stop just under one of the large logs and immediately began chirping. His song was loud and Kore could hear him sing of happiness and contentment. 

Kore smiled happily and reached out to pet the toad. 

“Now for a name… hm” she hummed, looking at the toad from different angles. She waved her hand over the wood panel in front of the tank, a name tag appearing with the name ‘Fredrick’ on it in fancy bold lettering. 

A loud, angry huff from the other side of the room interrupted her. She turned her head to look at the source.  

Ribbagoth was looking over from the opposite side of the room, his side of the room, his beady little eyes glaring at Fredrick in pure jealousy. Once he noticed her looking, he huffed angrily once again, his little feet stomping on his pillow and turning him, presenting his butt to her. He flopped down on his pillow, letting out another angry huff.

Kore wouldn’t have this, however. 

She picked her fat toad demon up and cuddled him close, his face squished back as he tried to pull away from her, his little feet pressing hard into her chest for leverage. She proceeded to lean in further and cover his little squishy face in kisses anyway. 

“Oh no my babbyyy,” she sweetly talked, her voice taking a more babying tone, “Oh nooo, I'm so sorry! Did I make my baby boy jealous by paying attention to another toad? I'm sorry baby! You are, and always will be, my favorite,” she cooed. Kore continued to baby talk him as she walked around her rooms, patting his butt rhythmically and giving him smooches all over his little face. 

“He’s just a pet when you’re my baaaabbyyyy,” she sing-songed the last word, planting a big, loose-lipped kiss on the center of Ribbagoth’s forehead. The toad demon was happily croaking, his little legs patting along his fat underbelly with every kiss and snuggle. 

“But you see now baby, these toads I'm going to bring won't only be my pets, but also your underlings,” she said, catching the toad demon's attention. “Yes, I will be blessing every toad and frog I bring here, they will have some higher intelligence and you will be giving them orders from me, understand?” Ribbagoth nodded enthusiastically, happy to be given another level of importance! He liked to be important. He will give Master’s toad army all of the orders from Master. 

Said Master’s only orders would be to remain alive, fat, and happy, but that was beside the point. 

With plenty of more smooches, and a nice bath with plenty of bubbles, Ribbagoth seemed sated and fell deep asleep on his pillows in the main room. 

Kore then spent this time, and a good few days after, completely hyper-fixated on amphibians. 

Nothing was boring about them! Their little bodies, each so weird, floppy, and squishy, filled her brain and grace like an addiction. After being trapped in the cage for so long, she was far behind in her knowledge of Earth’s species and their environments, needs, and behaviors. 

She read up on all the humans had to offer on the species, using their libraries across the world and the internet to fill the gaps. 

They were a fascinating group of creatures, they were the first to crawl out of the water and evolve to live life on land. They were so small, chubby, and fucking adorable to look at. Their different colors were stunning, their poison skin, the axolotl. Nothing about them was bad in her opinion. 

And thus, her obsession grew. 

On the continent of Africa, in the country of Tanzania, was a tribe called the Mzala. They were an ancient tribe, one that had been around for thousands of years. They centered around one main family line, held by both men and women, one that could be traced back to the beginning to Amina Kibwe, the first of their people. 

And a daughter of Abel.

Amina knew of her family's potential and founded their tribe to reflect it. Their practices and prayers centered around Michael, who they knew as the fire spirit Shujaa. 

Shujaa would provide, Shujaa will protect. 

And he did. 

Shujaa would come down every few decades to maintain the line: he had blessed the land their people had settled on ages ago, and maintained the blessing to this day. He cultivated the line like a farmer with cattle, sterilizing the weak ones and ‘encouraging’ the strong. This left Michael with a strong line of secondary vessels at his disposal, but none were as good as his Sword or his younger brother Adam. But Michael was a planner, and every good planner needs a backup. 

On this day, the village gathered in the main area. Fire pits roared and licked at the sky, food was piled on trays and bowls, whole animals roasted on spits, and music filled the air as they celebrated. 

Shujaa was coming, Shujaa would pick one of them to be his body. 

It was a blessing and honor to give yourself over to Shujaa, one that had only happened a few times in the tribe’s thousands of years. This was their purpose, the pact that Amina had made long ago that kept her descendants prosperous.

The music was loud and drum-heavy, with shakers and sistrum aiding the percussion. They sang, chanted, and danced, waiting for Shujaa to arrive. 

Suddenly, the fire's light dimmed considerably before rushing back in an inferno, each shooting up like a pillar, far up into the sky. This excited the people, who continued to dance and sing louder and more energetically. The fires spread out, forks of flame pushing out into the crowd, zig-zagging between the dancing people but not so much as grazing their skin. 

From above, it looked almost like lacework, branching out from each pillar of fire. 

Feet kicked and stirred up dirt, drums pounded and voices lifted as the web completed itself, surrounding each person of the tribe, young and old, in a web of fire. 

The flames seemed to surge, brightening before slowly retreating, but not towards the flames. People took note as they receded, and followed it to a man, who was currently stock still, head thrown back and mouth open in a loud bellowing shout as the flames touched him and sank beneath the skin, lighting him up from the inside. His body shook and jolted but remained in place, his eyes lit up with a bright burning blue hotter than any of their fires. 

The tribe watched with bated breath as the fire continued to enter the man’s body, music and chanting picking back up as they did. They surrounded him now, moving on light feet, they rhythmically dipped their bodies at the waist towards him, arms and legs moving in time to jingle the beads and metal bracelets on them. The energy was high and heavy, filling each person with a euphoria that made their bodies sing. They praised and moved with the flow of the music, nothing existed to them other than the here and the now. 

Shujaa is here, filled their heads and hearts, and they sank back into their devotion, allowing their very souls to sing with them. 

The fire finished entering the man, writhing under his skin. His hair, box braided down to his waist, began to bleach itself under the stress of holding a celestial within an imperfect vessel. Starting at the root, the hair lightened to a wheat-like color, just shy of white. 

The fires settled back into their normal size, and the light under the man’s skin dimmed to nothing. There was a pause in the music and celebration as the man stood there still for a long second. He opened his eyes and the crowd gasped at the vivid, glowing blue of his irises. 

“Ame kuja!” one voice said loudly from the crowd, which was quickly followed by the others joining in, each repeating the same line: 

Ame kuja.

He has come. 

The chanting and cheering picked up like the pause never excited, the group dancing and praising him. 

The man, the spirit, however, had disappeared at this point and left the crowd to their celebrations. 

So, that Hammer of the Gods bullshit. 

Obviously it did not go down the same as it did in the show. 

For one, when Kore got the summons from that one pagan, what's-his-face in the red jacket, she had been thrown for a loop. She wasn’t going after them, or sicing her minions on them after all. She was mainly doing so for Gabriel’s benefit. He had some sort of attachment to the flesh-eating parasites called gods and Kore was spoiling him at the moment, a make up for past misdeeds and all. 

So when she strolled into The Elysian Fields, she was already rather crabby. The acid had been eating at her all day and she wanted so so badly to maim. To rip. To tear. To mutilate. But she couldn't. 

For Gabriel she wouldn't. 

So Kore grit her teeth and walked into the hotel, knowing she couldn’t get her hands dirty with their stinking, rotted, disgusting flesh. Even though she wanted to. Really really wanted to. 

The pagan Mercury, the Roman god of Messengers, stood at the desk. 

She clicked on the bell, the ring echoing in the empty lobby. 

“Checking in.” she snarked. 

“Lucifer! Thanks for coming.” Mercury simpered, angling his body into a more subservient position. She liked it a bit, a ‘god’ bowing to her that is. 

She smirked, “You called me here, something about my vessel being in your possession?” 

“Oh yes! But not my possession, the group in there.” he pointed down the hall. “And the way it was going with them…” he gave her a look. Kore had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the petty, self-serving creature. 

“Well then, let me go introduce myself,” she said walking past him and towards the room, flicking her fingers at him to follow. 

They encountered some gods along the way, all of which tried to attack her. They didn’t even get to lay a hand on her. 

Her grace hummed in pleasure as it reached out, wrapping around the minor deities like rope, tying them to this plane and binding their powers down to nothing. Even if her concentration on them broke, they would need an archangel’s help to unbind their abilities. 

Kore delighted in subjugating them, taking care not to damage them too much. They fell to the ground like bricks, each of them cursing up a storm of crude language towards her. She stepped on the neck of one of the more mouthy ones and contemplated breaking his neck to paralyze him completely. 

She could always fix it after if Gabriel made a fuss. 

With a shrug of her shoulders and a quick move from her crystal-studded stilettos, she snapped the pagan’s neck, breaking the vertebrae and damaging the spinal cord at a pivotal point. The god’s body went limp in her grace, the vitriol he was spitting cutting off with the sharp CRACK of his neck. 

The other gods went silent. 

She could feel the terrified gaze of Mercury on her back, his shivers almost audible in their intensity. Kore peered at him over her shoulder, her red eyes glinting menacingly in the fluorescent lighting. 

“Foolish, don’t you think?” she asked casually. Mercury nodded hurriedly, gulping. 

She continued walking to the dining area, trailing the subdued gods behind her with her grace. Mercury followed close behind like a cowed dog. 

A pleasant, classic smile was plastered on her face as she walked into the main hall where the remaining pagans and her humans were. 

“Well well, it certainly looks like a party here,” she said, her words accompanied by the sound of dragging bodies behind her. 

“Lucifer,” Sam said, his eyes lighting up. Which was… odd but not unwelcome. She gave him a small side eye before focusing on the two pagan nuances in front of her. 

“Now,” she purred, “let's talk things out shall we.” with a click of her fingers, all the pagans were displaced and sat back in their seats, unrestrained. One of the gods who attacked her on the way in tried to spring up, but was forcefully shoved down in place. She watched as he struggled to stand under her power. And he was giving it his all, swelling his power into one knife-sharp force to try and tear through her binds. 

But what is a knife to steal bars? 

The god sank back into his seat, panting for breath as he exerted all of his strength to get free. Half of the others stared at him, and the other half stared at the still paralyzed god that was flopped face first on the table. 

“Shall we begin then?” 

She looked over at the Winchesters, “You are not where I left you. Last I heard you were traveling East, not South. This place is over 50 miles in the wrong direction.” Dean rolled his eyes. 

“Tell that to the hell-storm that was out there. These guys lured us and a bunch of others here with detours and a storm that almost washed us off the road. It was here or in a ditch.” She snorted at his wording. 

“Winchesters: taking on an entire monster den with nothing but dull pointy sticks and guns. What will I do with you?” she bemoaned. Dean gave her a two fingered salute in response, the smirk never leaving his face. The two had been in some hot shit before she came but with The Lucifer there? His swagger was back, along with the snarky personality. 

“Unbind us,” demanded one of the male gods in an angry tone, she looked at his nametag and saw it was Baldur. 

“Oh dear, you are in no position to make demands.” she said sweetly. She raised one hand and held it in a snapping poison. “One snap of my fingers and you’re nothing but smear on the upholstery and some poorly written stories.” she leaned close in, “So. Shut. Up .” she hissed into the god’s face, red eyes boring into his. They had a stare-off for a moment before Baldur seemed to realize who the bigger fish was and wisely shut his mouth. 

Kore stood back upright and turned back to address the group entirely. She could see under their faces, down to their true forms. Their ‘godly’ forms had been manifested and cultivated over eons of their believer’s faith. To her they looked hollow, empty containers only able to move when fueled by blood and prayer. To her, they were not true beings, not alive. 

“Now! We can get down to business.” she smiled, oh-so-pleasantly to everyone. “You touched what was mine, which is a big no-no.” fingers were waggled in each of the god’s directions as she berated them like children. 

“They stabbed Gabriel.” Sam suddenly cut in, his eyes never leaving her face. 

Kore went blank for a moment. 

“Did they now.” 

“He's alive.” another god quickly interjected, Kali. She seemed to have caught on a lot quicker than the others and was now in damage-control mode. 

She knew, logically, that these creatures didn’t truly hurt him, with the trick he played. 

But..

But …

She didn’t care. 

Gabriel was hers. Her brother, her flock, her kin, hers . The thought of anything happening to him made her vessel’s skin feel 10 times too small as her rage pressed against her insides. Her arms ached to reach out and eviscerate anything and everything that posed a threat to what was hers. 

The Devil walked up to Kali slowly, movements smooth and deliberate. Staring Kali dead in the eye, she relaxed the hold on her grace slightly, just enough to give weight to what she said next. 

“The only reason,” Kore bit out, “that you are not dead is because Gabriel seems to like you.” her hands splayed on the table in front of her as she leaned in. “But do not think for a second that I don't desire to paint the walls with your innards.” The words were whispered so quietly that even the other gods had to strain to hear, but everyone could feel the menace in the air, rage crackling like little electric charges in the space around them. 

“One step,” she continued in a whisper. “One breath out of line and I will drag you down into the deepest, nastiest parts of hell I can find and let my demons fuck every hole in your body they decide to make.” No smile or smirk grazed her face as she spoke, the dead, flat expression on her face eerie and inhuman. “Do you understand?” 

The goddess, for her credit, didn’t cower under her gaze. Kali nodded sharply, her face and neck dripping with sweat, but chin high. Her gumption would have, under different circumstances, endeared her to Kore . But not today. 

Kore leaned back up slowly, her intense gaze never leaving the goddess’s. 

“To continue, I have been hearing a lot of… chatter about my death. I know, seems everyone has that thought in mind these days.” she chuckled, turning in a circle to eye each god as they sat at the U-shaped table. 

“I’m here to say: keep dreaming .” she smiled nastily. With a wave of her hand, Odin died in a grand explosion of gore. The other gods jumped in their seats as blood and viscera rained down on them.

“You said-” With a zipping motion from her, Mercury, who had been shifting away slowly from his fellow gods, clammed up. His hand went over his throat as he tried to make a sound, eye bugging out when he realized none would come. 

“Shhh,” she said, placing a finger over her lips. Her once start-white appearance was now dotted with small splashes of bright blood on the side Odin had been sitting. “I didn’t say which ones Gabriel preferred spared and those he doesn't give a rat's ass about.” She focused her stare on Kali, “Or maybe the satisfaction of killing you is greater than his disappointment.” 

Kali shifted slightly in her seat but did not show a sign of response to Kore's obvious threat. The Devil’s lips quirked slightly. 

“From now on, stay out of my way. Go back to your hovels and hide under the rocks you crawled out of. Because if I come across any of you again, you’re dead.” She made sure to dead-eye stare each and every god and goddess as she said this. 

“Mercury,” she said suddenly, causing the mute god to jump in his seat. He stared at her with wide, frightened eyes as she observed him. “Pack your bags. You belong to me now.” 

The other god hesitated for a moment, shock and pride holding him in place.  

“ Go, ” she ordered, a small trickle of her true voice coming out, shaking the rafters and causing the two humans to clamp their hands over their ears. Her patience wore thin.

The Roman god of messengers quickly scampered out of the room, to get his things together if he was smart. She’d find him if he didn’t. 

“Now,” she turned to the remaining pagans. “I will be taking my humans and their blood with me. And then you all will go hide in whatever corners of the world you hope I can't find.” She smiled pleasantly, and with a little ‘shoo’ motion, all the pagans vanished. 

Afterward, Lucifer had been nice enough to take Sam and Dean to another hotel, luggage in all. This one was in the city they had been heading to before the roads flooded.

Sam watched Lucifer closely as she interacted with Dean. How did they get so close so fast? Dean was a hard ass, and far more suspicious of supernatural creatures than Sam was. For him to accept the Devil of all monsters had Sam’s hair standing on end. 

He knew, rationally, that Dean was getting help in the therapy sessions that Lucifer was taking him to. But Sam couldn't help but wonder what her secret intentions for it were. There was no way that she was going this far, doing this much, for nothing. What did she want from Dean? 

A small part of him admitted to jealousy, wondering what made her pick Dean over him. 

“In there, how did you know it was Kali who stabbed Gabriel? I said ‘they’, but you went straight for her, why?” Sam asked, suddenly. Lucifer had idly been looking at the odd wall decorations when he spoke up, and her head turned towards him at the sound. 

Lucifer gave him a stinky side-eye look, “Don't you have somewhere to be? People to judge for not going whole-grain?” 

“Please, just answer me,” he said, looking peeved. 

“I read it in her thoughts,” she said. Sam was not convinced but dropped it. “Where is Adam?” she continued.

“He’s staying with Bobby, helping with the phones and reading up on supernatural lore.”

“And the talismans? Working well?”

“As far as we can tell.” Sam replied, “Not so much for the nightmares.” Lucifer made an agreeing face. 

“Not much can besides therapy and time. I'm not surprised.” she folded her arms and leaned back on the desk, looking over her nails. She changed them from color to color, shrinking and lengthening them in different ways before settling on a set of silver and red arrowhead nails studded with mini crystals and opals. 

She wiggled her fingers, the gems catching in the light. Sam bit his lip and said something that had been weighing heavily on his mind.

“Thank you.” Sam suddenly said, the words tinged with relief. Lucifer looked back to him from her nails, a look of surprise on her face. Which made him feel a smidgen guilty. 

“For what?” she asked. 

“For helping Dean,” he replied. “He's been getting a lot better recently. He's more… open about things than he was before.” Sam huffed out a humorless laugh and sat down in the armchair, looking over at Lucifer, who was still leaning against the desk. “Don’t get me wrong, he still clams up whenever feelings are involved but he still tries to talk about things. Past arguments, fucked up hunts, times where we got hurt. He's… he's trying. And I can see it’s helping.” he clenched his hands together in his lap and gave her a meaningful look. 

“So just, thank you.”

Lucifer watched him for a long time, quietly assessing him. Her eyes were darker and deeper in the soft lighting. Something softened there, an ice that Sam hadn't realized was there, hadn't realized was bothering him. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Sam smiled and forced the lump down his throat. He would keep his doubts quiet for now. For his brother. 

But he would be watching. 

Chapter Text

The day had started simply. 

Kore had been working when the sun first peaked over the horizon, flipping through file after file on her desk. Reports, charts, bills, proposals and more passed through her fingers for approval, disapproval, or amendment. 

 After her confrontation with the pagans Kore had been a busy bee. She had spoken with Mercury the day after the event. It had been a lucrative meeting, with the god signing his contract of service and leaving with her mark on his arm.

Kore had sat with Mercury in her office, the minor god sweating bullets in his seat as she shuffled papers around. 

“So,” she said, causing the pagan to startle. “I’ll lay out the basics of what's going on. Right now I have a job opening, one that you can perform quite well in.” she looked up, finishing her last few papers as she did. 

“What might this job be?” Mercury asked, a tentative smile on his face, polite till the end. 

“I have a new plan in the works, one that is going to require a large displacement of a lot of people over a short amount of time. I need someone to maintain the buildings and run them.” Mercury relaxed at her words, relieved that it actually was something he could do. And do well. 

“May I know more?” he asked. Kore nodded, picking up a packet and handing it to him. 

“Relocation and Reassignment Program for Supernatural Entities, Beings and Creatures (RRPSEBC)” was in bold lettering on the title. Mercury looked at the packet confused before opening it to the first page. He began to read through the lengthy form, his eyebrows furrowing and raising as he got to certain parts. 

“You plan to employ the Supernatural community?” 

“Just those who cannot keep their noses clean on their own, or those at risk. I have plans for this planet, many of which could be sabotaged or made difficult by others. And I am forward thinking enough to remove obstacles from my way before they become a problem.” She smirked, a cruel glint forming in her eyes. “I think that works out better for them, I’m not as kind to… problems .” 

Mercury nodded, “very generous of you.” 

Kore's lips quirked a bit. “You will be maintaining a series of apartment complexes around the world. All occupied and staffed by the supernatural. You will be responsible for staffing these facilities as well, along with a generous budget for maintenance, decor, staff, etcetera. You can employ residents if they have no prior commitment to me, or with others you bring along.”

Mercury was quiet for a long moment after, thinking over his next words. 

“What are your plans for them?” he had asked in a rare moment of bravery, “the supernatural you move into these apartments.” Kore eyed him and contemplated not answering. It wasn’t his business, after all, and if she wanted to fuck or murder every single one of them he’d still do his job just the same. But she had been in a rather good mood at the time. 

“Containment, surveillance, and eventually a unique pool of indebted individuals to pull from for special tasks a human or demon could not achieve.” she told him. 

“You do not wish to harm them?” he continued. 

Kore smiled with all her teeth. “Only the ones who resist.”

“R-right.” Mercury said, his brief moment of bravado leaving him. 

“Next, I will have you get in contact with our clean up department. We've been using the furnace to get rid of the corpses my demons bring in but this could be another good way to use them. We will get a system in place to butcher the bodies and get the pieces to the right people within the right times. Your speed will come in handy there. Preservation spells should do the trick as well.” She placed a phone on the desk and slid it over to him. “This is your work phone. Inside you will find contacts of other departments you will be working with. My number is there, only use it for emergencies and pre-planned calls. You will be reporting to me for the first year and then after that I shall be appointing a liaison to handle all residential and communal aspects and communications.” 

“You plan on doing more than the supernatural apartments?” he asked, confused by her wording. Kore hummed but did not offer an answer. 

“I'm not going to lie,” she continued, “you stink and I do not wish to be burdened with your smell so our contact will be limited to emails and phone calls, except on prespecified days where I will be inspecting your facilities, understood?” She kept eye contact with him until he nodded firmly, then went to type on her computer.

“I am giving you a chance to rise above yourself, Mercury. Don't disappoint me.” 

It had only been a few days since their conversation, and so far Mercury hadn’t been idle. According to his emailed reports, and the reports from staff she had assigned to keep an eye on him, he had been going around and speaking to several groups and individuals in the supernatural community. Her staff informed her he was recruiting, taking along her packet and showing it to the others and proposing they join him. So far, only a few seemed interested, one being Hephaestus, the Greek patron of artisans. A very smart move on the pagan’s part, and one that Kore made note to reward him for. She fostered forward thinking and ingenuity, especially when it would benefit her plans in the long run.  

The Great Deceiver picked up her pen and scribbled on the paper in front of her in curling red ink. ‘ Absolutely not! no penis depictions on any visible surface!!!’ she wrote in the design’s margins, dotting the ‘i’ somewhat aggressively. 

She appreciated dick jokes as much as the next person, but this was going to be a show piece and she didn’t want the focus on the very blatant jizzing penises the designer put into the lattice work. 

Kore threw the file on the ‘amended’ pile and pulled up the next. 

Bills of construction. Approved. 

Proposal for funding of KSC project. Amended. 

Proposal of amended security measures. Denied. 

On and on, the paperwork went. Until the stacks were piled up higher than her head, but finished and ready for sending. A scrape of her fingers along the rune chain that lined the bins sent them off to an undersecretary, who would scan and then send off the files to the appropriate people. 

She was slowly digitizing everything, which would make the process a lot easier and more direct. But, unfortunately, most demons are completely technology illiterate, with only the newer, weakest demons being the savviest. And getting old as shit demons to learn from the newbies? Impossible. So Kore chose her battles and kept things on paper for the majority of things on the Hell side.  

The human side was different, but Nick handled the majority of human contact while only coming to her for the important things. 

Suddenly, the building shuddered. 

Kore's head snapped up and a presence suddenly bloomed on the edge of her awareness. 

Fire, passion, and anger filled her senses to the brim, making her feel a sharp pang of rage, familiarity, and fear.

It was Michael. And he was attacking her home. 

Kore's gaze turned outwards, her true form rearing up, her many wings and arms blossoming open in a threat display. She was able to see through the walls and up into the sky, where Michael flew on the edge of her wards, his grace whipping and snapping against the barrier like lightning strikes. 

All of her mouths opened as one as she roared at the threat against her nest. Her wings snapped down as she threw herself into the air, making a beeline for the attacking archangel. 

Michael, of course, saw her approach and braced as she rammed into him, sending them both hurtling through the air for miles, their forms defying gravity and zig-zagging through the air as they grappled. Kore's only thought was to get Michael away from her home, but it left her in a predicament. 

Michael was far stronger than her physically and Kore did all she could to stay out of Michael’s grasp, knowing that once he had a hold of her that it was over. 

With a screech, Lucifer’s true form morphed. Skin, fur, and feathers peeled back to reveal bone and scales. The bones were jagged and serrated, thickened in places for durability and hollow in others for maneuverability. Her long serpentine form twisted, wings writhing in the air as she tried to stay out of reach. 

This form was given to her by Father before their fight with Amara and its terrifying visage was how she got the moniker of The Dragon during the war before the Fall. Each scale was handcrafted by Him, each bone sharpened, and each talon shined. And it was the only reason she was able to stay toe-to-toe with Michael in battle. 

The two twisted in the air, Michael hands struggling to grip into her, the sharpness of her current form slicing into his grace whenever he tried. Kore just had to keep his hands away from her wings. 

With an angered bellow, Michael sent a huge blast of grace into her front, the force smashing against her center and sending her crashing into the ground from the sheer strength of it. 

Peeling herself out of the rock and debris Kore groaned at the big bruise on her grace from the tremendous blow.

The hit hand sent her stickering through the undergrowth, crashing into a bunch of trees and pulverizing them into splinters. She picked herself up out of the landing zone just as Michael landed on the ground several yards away. They had landed on the edge of a forest, in a large clearing somewhere in the midwest Americas. 

“Lucifer, It’s been some time.” Michael greeted, his massive wings folding closed over his back neatly and Kore was able to get a good look at him for the first time in billions of years.

He was still absurdly handsome, the bastard. 

Lucifer always thought Michael was the most handsome of angels. Where she was icy, beautiful, and distant, Michael was warm, stately, and approachable. The fledglings had flocked to him for guidance, to bask in his warmth and comfort. 

He was no different now, and his vessel complimented him well.

He wore a male vessel, one with dark brown skin which had black tribal tattoos stripped in geometric patterns along his arms, legs and torso. He was clean shaven, and the hair on his head was box braided down to his waist in small sized braids. All of his hair was a bright off-white, a clear sign of the strain he was placing on his vessel. 

But what a vessel it was. 

The man had been in his prime, perhaps mid to late 30s and well built. His form was well muscled and toned, his shoulders were broad and his hands were large and strong. He was also standing incredibly tall at nearly 7 feet. 

“How is your vessel so tall?” she muttered, looking at the very large vessel her counterpart chose to inhabit. She kicked a piece of wood out of the way as she walked out of her impact crater. 

“Genetic cultivation over centuries.” Michael responded stoically. 

“So like sheep.” she snarked back. The two stood face to face, their true forms on full threat display. The ground rumbled under foot at their combined energy in such close proximity, power zapping between them like conduits; two positive charges feeding into each other. 

 His large fiery wings were twice the size of hers and let off a tremendous amount of heat that she could feel even yards away. While hers were like a blast of polar wind, sharpening the air as the moisture was sapped out. 

“Why are you here?” Kore bit out, her anger bubbling under her vessel’s skin like magma. Seeing Michael after all these years opened wounds that were deep and painful still. Like an infection that creeps out into the blood, corrupting the rest of the body. 

“You have something that belongs to me.” He replied. The cold and heat fronts began to hit and mix with one another, causing a strong breeze to form. Michael’s vessel wore well made, brightly colored silk shawls and dark brown and black hide pants and boots. The shawls fluttered in the wind, his braids shifting along his back and shoulders. 

Michael stared at her, eyes shining a bright, intense blue that could score your insides as easily as they could calm your fears. As stoic as his vessel and true form were, his eyes held a well of emotion. He stared at her, drinking in the sight of her true form with desperation and guilt, as if committing her to a final memory. 

And it pissed her off . 

Kore grit her vessel’s teeth, her true form’s tail lashing from side to side in her anger. 

“Dean Winchester will never be yours.” she hissed. 

“Of course he is. Such as Sam Winchester is yours.” he said, stating the fact. Kore shook her head slowly, eyes never leaving his. 

“I refuse.” This seemed to draw him short, the first expression crossing his vessel’s face. His eyebrows pinched and his lips curved downward. 

“Refuse?” 

“Yes. I refuse. I won't fight you.” she said firmly. 

“It is written in the Plan, Father even said so Himself that we are to fight to the death.” Michael said slowly, as if she had forgotten. 

“I don't care! I dont care what He said or told us to do! I won't do it.” she yelled, her hands going wide as she gestured. “I’m not doing anything wrong, no human genocide or evil spreading. I’m just trying to make a life down here.” 

“It doesn’t-”

“Don’t you dare fucking say it doesn’t matter, Michael.” she huffed. Both hands came up and carted through her hair, coming down to rub at her face in a weary gesture. “We don't have to fight.” she said simply, dropping her hands and looking over at the other archangel. “We have a choice. And I choose not to fight you.” 

Michael looked… confused. 

“It is the Plan.” he stated once again. 

“I am aware of that. Shit plan if you ask me.” 

Michael scowled. “We cannot deviate from the Plan, so it is Written, so it will come to pass.” Thunder began to rumble as their power began to affect the world around them, grace leaking out into the environment as they faced off. The trees swayed in the heavy wind, leaves blowing in the air as the storm gathered.

Kore shook her head, “No, Michael, it doesn’t have to be this way.” 

“I don't believe you.” Michael stated, his voice low and tinged with frustration. 

Kore seethed, “I just want to be left alone. ” she pleaded despite her frustration. She didn’t want to fight Michael, she never did. 

"I don't believe you," he whispered, his eyes filled with a deep inner turmoil. But, like the thunder that heralds a storm, Michael's conviction came thundering back. His hands clenched, jaw tightening as he clamped down on his resolve. His chin tilted down as his eyes narrowed at her. 

"The Plan is absolute. Our roles are defined." 

And Kore knew there was no speaking to him anymore. 

Michael lunged, dirt and debris kicking up on either side as he launched himself towards her as fast as light. Even braced, she was not ready for the force of his power against hers. She was knocked off balance, her vessel stumbling and her true form rattled. Her serpentine form twisted angrily, wings, talons and teeth lashing out against fire and copper. 

The dance began. 

On the earthly plane, their vessels were locked in a physical struggle, the very ground quivering under the weight of their powers. Each punch sent a shockwave, each kick sent a tremor.  The physical world bore witness to their clash, the battleground shaped by their fight. A world of tissue paper falling apart beneath titans. 

On another plane, their true forms engaged in a breathtaking display of cosmic warfare. Under the onslaught of fire, Michael’s true form was an armored marvel, bone and metal seamlessly grafted together, a living weapon and shield. He emanated a searing heat that rivaled the sun. His massive wings unfurled like the petals of a flower, casting radiant hues across the battleground. Every movement left a trail of embers, and his many eyes burned with a fierce intensity that mirrored the inferno within.

Lucifer's dragonic silhouette moved with grace, each scale glinting like starlight even mid combat. Her wings, a large expanse of frozen feathers, whipped through the astral winds leaving trails of frost in their wake. From her sinewy arms sprouted hundreds of talons that gleamed like diamonds, and her elongated neck undulated with fluidity as she faced Michael’s fiery onslaught. 

The rain cascaded like liquid starlight, infused with their rampant energies, painting the battlefield in ephemeral glows. Lightning illuminated their dance, capturing the essence of their conflict with bursts of brilliance as it crackled around them. Stardust-like droplets mingled with the tempest, creating an otherworldly spectacle that transcended the boundaries between realms. 

Reality warped under the pressure of their colossal energies in combat, the planes of existence forced together just so. Enough that their true forms began to bleed out into the surrounding physical plane, casting outlines of their true forms mid-air. Anything flammable was instantly set to light within their vicinity, the very air seeming to burn as they became more visible. 

This is why they needed their true vessels. And, even early on in the fight, Kore knew she could not win against Michael, not without her true vessel, not without his soul. Michael was stronger than her and, in a fist fight, he would always win. 

As if to prove her point, her guard slipped a fraction, an opportunity that Michael seized without hesitation. A large blazing hand shot out and clamped down hard on the frozen edge of her wing, fingers curling and crumpling feathers as his grip tightened. Kore shrieked as feathers were yanked free of her wing down to the follicle, glowing blood spraying from the new injury. 

Kore jumped back as far as she could, her chest heaving. Her main set of wings had been damaged, the left wing having a large chunk of flight feathers ripped free. Grace dripped from the injury, spotting the battlefield with pinpricks of light. 

Across the field Michael straightened up, his right hand clutched around a handful of crushed white feathers. 

“You dick,” she hissed, flexing her wings out. She would be able to fly still, but her gate would be thrown. Harming another angel's wings was considered dishonorable and only started to happen in combat during her rebellion. It only started happening after Michael started doing it, the other angels mirroring him. 

It was how Michael subdued her in order to cast her out.  

She could still remember his vice-like grip digging into the base of her wings, claws digging into the tender flesh there and ripping. 

Kore hissed angrily as Michael attacked once again, but bid a hasty retreat. She was outmatched and knew it.

She turned to flee but a strong hand grasped onto her true form's tail and yanked her back down to the ground. The earth trembled as she landed and the other archangel was on her before she could recover. Michael rained down blows both physical and celestial, battering her vessel and true form with fire and fists. 

She dodged, she jumped, she ran, all to get away from the angel she used to call brother. Her form was quickly littered with injuries, bruises the size of his fists, and gashes from his claws and sharp, copper edged wings. 

Kore was glad that he didn't have his spear, or she would be dead already. 

She had to get away.

With a large burst of grace, she ripped up a large chunk of earth and hurled it at the other angel. It made contact with an explosive force, the large piece of rock and dirt exploding in an impressive cloud, sending debris everywhere. 

She wasted no time and hauled ass out of there as quickly as she could, zapping herself all over the world in a hundred places to throw Michael off her trail. But it wasn’t enough. Her injuries trailed a shimmering wake of grace as she soared through the skies. One that Michael, undeterred, pursued with a relentless determination. As she zigzagged across the world, Kore left behind a tapestry of these ethereal trails, a glittering map of her frantic flight.

Kore's injuries weighed heavily on her as she traversed the skies, each beat of her damaged wings sending waves of pain through her Grace. She glimpsed the scattered remnants of her once-imposing wings; the main set was mangled and bloodied, and the others were in poor shape as well after being the focus of Michael’s attacks. Grace dripped from her like stardust, leaving a shimmering trail that Michael continued to follow. 

With a burst of speed, Kore soared into the storm she and Michael had created in their fight. The clouds began to swirl with an otherworldly luminescence as she entered, Grace mixing with the moisture in the air to create something ethereal and chaotic . 

Thunder rumbled like the roar of titans and lightning crackled with the intensity of their combined celestial wrath, which had sent the storm to hurricane-like proportions.

From the continued heat on her back, Michael had been undeterred by this tempest, and pursued her into the heart of the storm. Rain lashed against their physical and etherial forms, soaking them both through their clothes. Lucifer used the storm's chaos as a shield, twisting and turning in the air, desperately attempting to lose her pursuer amid the maelstrom.

As Lucifer soared deeper into the heart of the storm, a sudden burst of light enveloped her. It was as if the very essence of her being, a radiant manifestation of raw power , exploded outward. Her essence fragmented into myriad shards, each one a silhouette of her dragon-like true form.

These spectral echoes of herself danced within the tempest, their movements mirroring the erratic rhythm of the storm. A hundred shadowy figures twisted and turned, creating a mesmerizing display of ethereal grace against the backdrop of roiling clouds and clashes of lightning.

Each phantom image held a fraction of Lucifer's true essence, the Grace within them shining and twinkling even amidst the storm. The air crackled with energy as the fragments wove through the tempest, leaving behind an intricate pattern of glimmering trails that fell through the rain. It was a dance of light and shadow, a performance born of desperation that played out amidst the thunderous applause of the rolling hurricane. 

Michael found himself ensnared in a web of illusions. The myriad shadows of Lucifer's true form created a symphony of confusion, a kaleidoscope of images that confounded his senses. Lightning illuminated her shades, revealing glimpses of her presence only to have them scatter like elusive apparitions.

As Michael reached out to grasp one of the fleeting echoes, it dissipated like mist, leaving him with nothing but rain-soaked air. 

Roaring in anger at her tricks, Michael released a bellow of holy flame that ripped through the stormy skies like an explosion. The burst of holy flame, a manifestation of Michael's wrath, tore through the stormy heavens. The tempest itself seemed to bow before the force unleashed, as if the very storm recognized the magnitude of an archangel's fury.

Yet, amidst the inferno, Lucifer's elusive echoes danced nimbly, evading the onslaught. The holy flames clashed with the storm's winds, creating a spectacular display of the elements in conflict. Lightning crackled and thunder roared in response to the turmoil, the very fabric of the cosmos quivering under the weight of their clash.

With a swift and decisive move, Lucifer's main essence, now hidden within the storm's chaotic heart, manipulated the currents of grace around her. A surge of power coalesced, forming a protective barrier that shielded her from Michael's fiery assault. The holy flames licked against the shield before dissipating. 

Undeterred, Michael intensified his assault, unleashing a barrage of bone and copper projectiles from his true form, all of them aimed at the heart of the storm. Each burst of holy energy surged forward, seeking out Lucifer's true essence amidst the illusory dance. Yet, the shadows of her true form continued to prove elusive, darting and weaving through the absolute chaos like phantoms born of the storm itself.

In a moment of fleeting clarity between bouts of lightning, fire, and rain, Michael glimpsed the true form of Lucifer within the storm. Her dragon-like silhouette, battered and worn, hung in the dark air like an eldritch horror. Her thousands of red eyes gleamed with defiance as she met his own in a moment of unspoken challenge. For a heartbeat, the universe seemed to hold its breath as the two archangels locked eyes. 

The moment passed, and the chaos slipped back in, blocking her form from sight. 

And, from one moment and the next, Lucifer’s presence on the battlefield vanished. 

Hurt and exhausted, Kore landed in the middle of the woods somewhere in northern Russia. She pulled her grace into her vessel as tightly as she ever had, straining the limits of her current body to contain herself. It was necessary, she needed to hide. 

Her skin bubbled and split like an overripe grape, flesh peeling open and muscles rolling and twitching underneath as she struggled to contain herself without destroying her body. She gasped, her form writhing on the ground as she struggled. Her skin spit, wounds opening in a thousand different rune and sigil patterns as she desperately tried to hold her vessel together. 

Kore let out a pained scream, her body arching as the runes all lit up at once, the sigils branding themselves into her skin and muscle. 

The Devil found herself heaving despite not needing to breathe, her body curled into the fetal position on the forest floor. The smell of iron and cooked meat hung heavily in the air. 

She focused on her breathing, in out, as best as she could as the pain slowly subsided into a manageable burn. 

Kore could feel the frayed edges of her damaged Grace, light bleeding off of her like solar flares and dissipating in the land around her. She was hurt, and badly . 

Shakily, she pushed herself up on one arm and took stock of her vessel and true form.

Blood and Grace mixed with dirt, turning what was left of her white clothes into a disgusting tie-dye of red, brown, and glowing iridescence. Her vessel was in tatters, the right arm was gone and most of the flesh below both knees had been burned off. The skin was battered and now covered in runic scars, and her hair was completely gone. 

Her true form was in somewhat better shape, with most of the injuries being on her wings. But her wings. Fuck her wings . 

Kore clenched her jaw, refusing to show grief, even alone, at the state of her precious wings. 

As the main target of Michael’s attacks, they had been severely damaged as a result. Both main sets of wings had large clumps of feathers torn out from the root, pieces of flesh missing in some areas. Her two smaller sets of main wings had been targeted as well, with only one single wing going completely untouched. One of the others was broken and hanging at an odd angle, the other two had been mutilated, with clumps of feathers burnt and broken off or completely gone in places. 

She was very surprised she could still fly. 

“ Shiiiit.” Kore  hissed, flopping back down on the ground. 

She was exhausted . 

With as little grace as she could, the Devil began to slowly knit her vessel back together. She regrew the missing limbs and hair and reconnected bone and tissues until she was whole once more, the only remaining mark being the silvery runic scares that now covered her skin. 

Vessel restored, Kore was able to focus enough to drag herself deeper into the undergrowth, encouraging the nearby trees to shift and curl until she laid cocooned in a knot of woody tree roots. Her Grace trickled out from her injured wings, puddling slowly on the floor of her sanctuary. 

Her grace etched more sigils and spells into her hideaway walls, to shield her from prying eyes and keep her presence hidden. Michael undoubtedly had some of her feathers in his possession now, which he could use in powerful tracking spells, so she had to be very cautious. 

Only once every surface inch of root was covered in symbols did she stop and begin to slowly unwind. Her Grace had been injured, down to the core of it, and she needed time to heal. 

Curling into a ball, Lucifer’s dim red eyes slid shut as she began to heal. 

(AN: ROUGH idea of what Luce's true form could look like:

Chapter Text

“Breaking news, a freak storm has occurred in Midwestern America-”

“-damages totaling in the millions-”

“-the lightning! I ain’t never seen anything-”

“-more are missing and presumed dead, casualties are in the hundreds-”

“- biblical-”

“-scientists are baffled over conflicting data from the storm. Energy readouts-” 

“-devastation across 7 different states, countless injured-” 

“Turn that shit off, Sam.” Dean huffed, throwing a towel over his shoulder as he exited the bathroom. Sam, remote still in hand from his channel hopping, clicked the off button quickly. 

The two sat in silence for a bit, the only sound coming from Dean ruffling through his bag for clothes. 

“Any word?” Dean finally asked, slipping a shirt overhead. 

“None.” Sam replied, grimacing. “I’ve been praying all day, no response.”

“Shit,” Dean hissed, running both hands over his face. 

The two of them had been deep within the Florida swamps fighting off some sort of swamp fae when the ‘storm’ happened. It was everywhere. A hurricane in the midwest americas that came out of nowhere. It started in Oklahoma of all places and ran North-West through Kansas, Colorado, Nebraska, South Dekota and Wyoming before coming to a stop and dying down in the middle of Montana.  

Dean zipped up his jacket, the worry etched across his face mirroring the concern in Sam's eyes. The news reports had painted a grim picture of the devastation. The storm had left a trail of destruction across multiple states, and the strange energy readings had caught the attention of scientists and government agencies alike. They needed to move fast. 

"We need to find Cas," Sam said, voicing the thought that lingered heavily in the air.

"Yeah, he might know something. If anyone's got a line to what just happened, it's him," Dean agreed, grabbing his phone. 

It had taken a while to find Cas after his stunt with the angel banishing spell, but they did. And the angel had been down for a while after as well. 

As Dean dialed Castiel's number, the room filled with a tense silence, interrupted only by the distant sounds blaring from the motel's ancient television.

"Dean, Sam," Castiel's voice crackled over the line as Dean quickly hit the speaker button, sirens wailing loudly in the background of the call.

"Cas, where the hell are you? " Dean asked, his tone a mix of urgency and frustration.

"I'm currently in Montana," Castiel explained. 

“The storm?” 

“Not a storm, a battle.”

“A battle?” Dean’s eyes flicked up, meeting Sam’s. 

“Michael has come to Earth in a secondary vessel, he found Lucifer at her Mourning Star headquarters and the two battled.” Castiel 

“Her headquarters was in Oklahoma?” Sam muttered to himself. 

“From what I gather,” Cas continued, “the two fought until their vessels began to fail before taking to the skies. They both disappeared over Montana.” 

“What really happened?” Dean interrupted suddenly. Sam’s eyes flicked up from the phone to Dean’s face. Dean was looking at the phone with a pinched look on his face. Before Sam could ask, Dean clarified. “You’re skirting. What happened?”

Cas was silent over the line for a long moment. 

“I know your current… relationship with Lucifer is positive so I did not wish to cause you distress.” Castiel said, his gruff voice vibrating over the phone. 

“Just spit it out!” called Sam, now alarmed. 

“There is considerable evidence that Lucifer lost the fight.”

“Is she dead?” Dean asked, his face and voice both stoic and flat. 

“No, every angel in existence would have felt her death. But she was, without a doubt, considerably injured.” 

“What evidence makes you say that?” 

“There is a great amount of her feathers spread around the storm’s path, and it appears that Grace bleeding from her injuries merged with the storm. It has saturated the land entirely.” 

“What does that mean?” Sam asked.

“I am not sure yet, myself. Grace is a product of pure Creation, and Archangel’s Grace came directly from our Father himself so there is no telling what will happen to this area over time.” 

“Will it destroy the area? Make it uninhabitable?” Dean asked up, sounding concerned. 

“On the contrary, we are likely to see some sort of flora and fauna boom in this area.”

“Oh… so what kind of things will we see then?” 

“I don’t know.” Cas replied, “Only time will tell.” 

“Where is Lucifer now?” Sam butted in, shifting closer to the phone. 

“I do not know that either, Lucifer was the first to vanish, then Michael.” 

“How can we find her?”

There was shuffling on the other side of the phone for a moment. “We can use some of her feathers from the battle, they hold an essence of her power and can be used in powerful tracking spells.”

“What do we need for that?” Dean asked.

“I will gather the necessary items and meet you at Bobby Singer’s.” The call disconnected and Dean looked very annoyed. 

“Dude didn’t even tell us when.” He complained, snapping his phone shut and sliding it in his front pocket. 

“We should head there now.” was all Sam said, already stuffing his stuff in his bag. Dean brushed off his attitude, used to his younger brother’s tunnel vision in regards to Lucifer at this point. He was also worried about her, but they had confirmation she wasn’t dead so he was holding out hope. 

The spell flared to life as Castiel cast the crumpled white feather into the silver bowl, the feather burning to ash along with the rest of the spell ingredients.The blank piece of papyrus that had been rolled across the table began to darken, splotches of ink slowly forming on the page that morphed into valleys, rivers, and mountains until the entire world layed mapped out before them. 

Sam, Dean, Adam and Bobby all stood around the table, watching the spell unfold.

As the fire in the bowl faded, Cas looked over the map, his eyebrow pinching just enough to let Dean know he had not found what he needed. 

Castiel leaned back from the table. 

“The spell shows Earth, which means she is still on the planet. She is, however, shielded from location spells in some way. I cannot get her location beyond that.” 

“Means she was well enough to put up protections at least.” Dean stated. 

It would be noted that It didn’t even cross their minds not to search for Lucifer, to focus on the damage from the battle. Though it wasn’t entirely out of loyalty, finding Lucifer was key to finding out what happened in the battle and to handle the aftermath.

Michael stepping into things increased the danger everyone was in, and without Lucifer there to stop him… 

As the group pondered the implications of Lucifer's current state, a palpable tension hung in the room. Dean's eyes narrowed, a stern resolve overtaking him.

"We can't afford to sit around. If Michael's up to something, we need to find Luce and figure out how to handle this mess," Dean asserted.

Bobby spoke up. “Lucifer's shields mean she's actively hiding. And if she is able to hide from Cas’s spell, how can we find her?”

Castiel, deep in thought, offered his insight, "Lucifer is strategic. If she's shielding herself, she might be recovering or gathering information. We can't underestimate her."

The three hunters and one angel stood there in silence, each chewing on their own thoughts. 

Castiel’s head suddenly snapped up, focusing on a point far over the brother’s heads. 

“What is it?” Dean asked, body tensing up on high alert. 

“Gabriel is here.” the windows suddenly lit up, as if the sun itself sat on the lawn.

The house began to shake slightly as light oozed inside through cracks around doors, windows, and old boards, consolidating into a man-like shape in the center of the room. As the last bit of light sunk into the shape, the light dimmed, revealing a very upset looking Gabriel.

“Who are you?” Adam piped up, his wide blue eyes focused on the new arrival. Gabriel’s eyes swept over the youngest Winchester quickly before settling on Sam and Dean. 

“I’m sure you two have seen the recent news.” he stated, a small frown seemingly etched permanently into his face, an odd look on the normally mischievous archangel. 

“Yeah, something about your older siblings duking it out?” Dean offered, giving Gabriel a look. The angle nodded tightly in return. 

“Anything you know about that? All we got is that Michael attacked Lucifer’s base of operations and the two took it across states until they disappeared in Montana.” 

Gabriel’s face pinched inwards, the muscles in his jaw dancing as he fought down a scowl. 

“Did you know,” Gabriel started slowly, “That we archangels have a separate ‘line’ on the Host ‘channel’ so to speak?” The humans and seraph exchanged looks. Gabriel let out a humorless laugh. “It means we can speak together, just the 4 of us. And last night? Michael used it to talk with Lucifer during the battle.” 

“What did he say?” Sam asked, his eyes filled with concern. 

Gabriel’s golden eyes darkened as he recounted the conversation Lucifer and Michael had the day before. 

“He wanted… me?” Dean said slowly, very slowly, as if testing the weight of the words themselves. 

“And she said no ,” Gabriel confirmed, staring Dean dead in the eyes. “And then refused to fight. And he almost killed her for it.” 

Gabriel was a hair's breadth away from losing it, his knuckles white as he tried to hold his frayed nerves together. 

Lucifer was just starting to get better, he could see the light returning to her eyes and mercy returning to her Grace. It had filled Gabriel’s heart with hope that things could turn out for the better, that maybe, just maybe, their family could reunite. He let his hopes blind and build within him until he truly believed things could change, only for the rug to be ripped out from under them once again. And it was taking its toll on his emotions and nerves. 

“We need to find her.” piped up a quiet voice, the group as one turned to Bobby who, at some point, had sat back in his armchair to listen to Gabriel’s story. 

Bobby's eyes were steely, and his tone brooked no argument. "She's hurt, hiding, and we've got a righteously psycho archangel on the loose. Lucifer might not be our favorite family member, but we don't let family get slaughtered. We find her."

Dean nodded in agreement, his jaw set. "Cas, Gabe, any ideas on how we can locate her?” 

Castiel shook his head. “Beyond using the feathers in the spell, I do not know of any greater way to find her.” 

Gabriel was quiet for a moment, pondering. “There may be a way I can narrow down her location, but it won't be exact.” The group turned to him expectantly. “Using as many of the fallen feathers I can, I should be able to take a… history of sorts.”

“History?” Dean asked.

“Yes, everywhere on Earth her grace was used in the last day. It might be able to pick up where she landed before warding, unless she warded herself mid-air. Then we’re fucked.” 

“Then lets hope she hasn’t,” Bobby interjected. 

And with that, the group was off. Castiel and Gabriel scoured the 7 states for every feather they could find, hauling them back to the house by the handfull. While the angels were busy, the four humans ran around Singer’s home, getting more ingredients ready and prepared for the spell. Powdered silver, holy oil, minced sage, and more were laid out on the table around another blank piece of tanned animal hide that had to be soaked in a mix of blood brine and ink for several hours. 

Sam carefully measured out powdered silver into a clay bowl, his brow furrowed in concentration. Dean inspected the feathers brought by Castiel and Gabriel, wondering how much of Lucifer's essence they truly contained. Adam, still relatively new to the world of hunters and angels, observed the proceedings with a mix of fascination and concern.

Bobby barked orders to keep everyone on track. "Make sure that hide is soaking good, we don't want any mistakes. And double-check the incantation, Cas. We can't afford any slip-ups."

Castiel, though usually stoic, appeared somewhat distressed. "I fear that even with the feathers, the spell's accuracy is uncertain. Lucifer is adept at shielding herself."

Gabriel, on the other hand, seemed oddly focused. His hands moved deftly as he organized the feathers, occasionally muttering to himself. Dean, noticing Gabriel's intensity, approached the archangel.

"What's eating at you?" Dean asked, his gaze fixed on the feathers.

Gabriel sighed, his golden eyes meeting Dean's. "It's just... I can't believe Michael would go this far. We've had our differences, but… she was begging him, Dean. That's a whole new level of fucked up."

Dean nodded, throat closing with the gravity of the situation. "We'll deal with Michael later. Right now, we need to find Lucifer and need your head in the game here, man. It’s fucked up what he did but we’re on a time crunch.” he pressed a firm hand into Gabriel’s shoulder in solidarity. “We’ll get to her. She’s going to be ok.” 

Gabriel nodded firmly, eyes clearing a touch as he refocused on his task. 

The atmosphere grew heavier as the hours passed. The hide soaked in the brine and ink, the feathers were meticulously arranged, and the incantation was rehearsed multiple times.

When everything was ready, they gathered around the table. The map was now surrounded by the tools of the spell, ready for use. Castiel, Dean, Sam, Bobby, Adam, and Gabriel formed a circle, each placing a hand on the hide.

As Gabriel began the incantation, the room filled with a soft hum. The mixture of celestial and arcane energies intertwined, creating an almost tangible energy in the air that had the humans’ hair stand on end. The map reacted, splotches of light marking places where Lucifer's grace had touched the Earth.

The spell worked and revealed Lucifer's recent movements. The map displayed a chaotic dance across the continents. Dean squinted, trying to make sense of the patterns.

"She's been all over," Sam remarked, studying the intricate trails. “Searching for something?”

As the group studied the illuminated map, a realization settled in—the erratic trails weren't indicative of a search; they were the frantic movements of someone trying to escape. Lucifer hadn't been seeking anything or anyone; she had been desperately fleeing.

Gabriel's shoulders sagged, "She was running," he muttered, a mixture of concern and mourning in his voice. "Michael must've really pushed her to the edge."

Dean's jaw clenched, a surge of anger coursing through him. "We need to find her fast. If Michael catches up, we're dealing with more than a family dispute. And we don’t want another storm.” 

The group refocused their efforts. The map displayed Lucifer's escape route—twisting and turning across the continents, over oceans and mountains. It was a chaotic dance of survival.

The spell, while revealing Lucifer's movements, couldn't provide real-time tracking. It was like retracing the footsteps of someone in a desperate race against time. 

“I need to check in with her people, see if they have heard anything from her before she went underground.”  Gabriel informed, “You all check the closest locations and fan out.” With a quick of his fingers, Gabriel grabbed a few of the remaining feathers and twisted them, smoothing over the bristles and sharp points until they formed rings. Grace tangled itself around the feathers in ribbons of light, holding them in their shapes and forming sigils on the stems. 

Once done, Gabriel handed each human what looked like a glass bracelet with a glowing, iridescent white feather inside. 

“Use these, looking through them will allow you to see traces of Lucifer’s Grace. Can’t miss it once you see it.” The humans each grabbed one, turning and twisting them in hand to look them over. 

Dean brough one up to his eye and looked around with it, stopping on Sam. 

“Uh Sammy? You’re glowing.” 

“What?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah, you got Lucifer all over you, man.” Dean said, one eye peering through the talisman at Sam. Sam looked down at his hands, as if searching for a tangible trace of Lucifer’s grace. 

“When did she do that?!” Sam exclaimed.

“Lucifer marked you long ago Sam, it is not a surprise that her mark remains.” Castiel said slowly, as if explaining something he should very much know. 

“She mark me?” Dean asked, holding a hand up in front of the talisman. Castiel’s face seemed to pinch slightly. 

“Yes, after your therapy sessions started.” He said, not seeming happy about it. 

“ You are in therapy?” Gabriel asked the oldest Winchester, gobsmacked. Dean waved him off. 

“So we take these and go hunting for Luce’s trails of Grace. What do we do when we find her?” 

“Call me,” said Gabriel. “I'll get her out and to a safe house I have set up.” 

The group split up, each angle going their own way, Sam and Dean one, and Adam and Bobby another. 

They had an Devil to find. 

(AN: more concept art of Michael i had made by Mrakobulka on Deviantart! isn't he gorgeous???? 

Chapter Text

3 weeks. 

It had been 3 weeks since the storm. 

They scoured North America, South America and Canada. The angels took the more dangerous territories, where the aftermath of the battle had left supernatural disturbances and pockets of heightened angelic activity. The humans cleared the bulk of the Americas, which meant dealing with the aftermath of the storm, which included displaced communities, infrastructure damage, and lingering supernatural anomalies. Dean moaned and groaned about the increased traffic on the outside states.

The storm's aftermath had left devastated landscapes in its wake, with entire communities grappling with the aftermath. Displaced individuals, both human and supernatural, added a humanitarian dimension to their mission. The group had to navigate through the chaos, providing assistance where they could while trying to remain focused on the primary objective. 

Entire communities were displaced, and the supernatural disturbances left by the celestial battle created a host of new challenges in their way. The devastation was not only physical but spiritual, with lingering energies causing anomalies that tested the group's resilience.

One of the first challenges they encountered was a small town in South Dakota, where the storm had unleashed a surge of ghosts. The veil between the realms had been torn thin in the fight, allowing spirits to roam freely. The group found themselves caught in the middle of a spectral uprising as restless souls sought answers and closure. It had also been Adam’s first official hunt, with the youngest Winchester getting to use some of his new knowledge in the field. 

The group had shared a round of celebratory beers after, congratulating the newest hunter on his first successful hunt. 

But trouble found them soon enough as they left South Dakota and went deeper into the storm zone. In Nebraska, the storm had unearthed a nest of ghouls that had been lying dormant for centuries. The hungry creatures were initially praying on the dead left over from the storm, but the large number of creatures meant that food sources ran out fast and the hoard began to feed on the live humans. The hunt had left Adam worse for wear, and the brothers were reminded how Adam had died in the first place…

But they couldn’t stop. 

They separated, the two pairs fanning out, with Sam and Dean going South. 

This eventually led them to Brazil where the two faced a community of witches struggling to contain the unleashed magical energies. The storm had disrupted their protective wards, even from this distance, causing wild magic to wreak havoc. They ended up having to call Gabriel in to help with that one. 

Adam and Bobby were having just as much fun in Canada, and ended up finding a werewolf pack that had moved north from Montana. They had been decent enough people, avoiding humans and eating the hearts of the wild boar they kept, but their livelihood had been shot down by the storm. Gabriel popped in once again and took the family off their hands, saying something about a relocation program for the supernatural but disappearing before explaining anything.  

One week in, Gabriel had to go on the back burner, slowing their search. 

Gabriel’s ‘touch base’ moment with Lucifer’s people revealed a dumpster fire of a power vacuum, one he had to step in and stop forcefully. The American Government almost fell to splinters as the demons stationed there began to take things in their own hands after the battle. Gabriel had to smite a good amount of demons for the rest to fucking listen to him and get their shit together. 

This, however, took all of Gabriel’s attention, leaving the searching to 4 humans and a seraph. 

After the Americas were searched, it was on to other continents. Castiel dropped off each human at different locations around the world, periodically picking them up and dropping them off at new locations when a lead went cold. 

It was at that 3 week mark when Sam finally stumbled upon the sleeping Lucifer. 

The bitter cold of Northern Russia greeted Sam as Castiel dropped him off in a desolate landscape. The map had shown an area deep within an old forest that had a faint trace of Grace, one very similar to hundreds of others Sam had searched over the last three weeks. Bundled up to the nines, Sam embarked on his solitary journey through the vast expanse, his breath visible in the crisp air. His boots sunk into the cold powder with every step. 

As he approached the location, Sam pulled the talisman up to his eye and peered through, seeing no change in the landscape. Sam couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration.

Undeterred, he continued his exploration until he stumbled upon a surprising burst of greenery, seemingly untouched by the harsh weather. The snow, now up to his shins, crunched beneath his boots as he ventured deeper into the grove. Morning light filtered through the snow-covered branches, speckling the ground in pinpricks of sunlight and shade. Sam moved carefully, his senses heightened in the tranquil yet ominous setting. The talisman, previously dormant, suddenly flickered to life, its glow intensifying as Sam approached a particular area.

He turned his head towards the flicker and followed it diligently, hoping it wouldn’t lead to another dead end.

Following the faint trail of Grace, Sam arrived at a very large tree that was completely shrouded in ivy and moss. The morning light twinkled in the snow, lighting up the surprisingly green tree from every angle. Something about the scene felt otherworldly, as if the forest itself held its breath. Curiosity and determination pushed Sam to investigate further. With gloved hands, he began peeling away the greenery from the tree's roots.

As the ivy and moss fell away, revealing the earth beneath, and Sam's eyes widened at the sight. A massive bundle of roots sat at the base of the giant tree, each root intricately covered in faintly glowing runes. The symbols shimmered like Grace and pulsed with a rhythmic beat, reminiscent of a heartbeat. The realization struck Sam – he had found her.

He had found Lucifer!

Both fists came down in a celebratory motion, Sam whisper-screaming into the crisp air as the last hellish three weeks finally bore fruit. 

Sam didn’t hesitate, he ripped out his phone as he fell to his knees, quickly dialing Gabriel’s number as he passed a hand over the runes. 

“Yellow, Sammy, what’s up?” Gabriel answered on the second ring, voice sounding strained. He was not handling Lucifer’s responsibilities well, unsuited to a job that was so… made for Lucifer by Lucifer. Her tasks and projects were made by her and tailored for her, and Gabriel was distinctly not on the same bandwidth as Lucifer. So it was frustrating, to say the least. 

“I found her, Gabe.” Sam breathed into the phone, relief sagging his body down deeper into the snow. “I found Lucifer.” 

Gabriel was standing next to Sam within the next few seconds, his eyes fixed onto the knot of roots. 

"Found her, huh?" Gabriel smirked, a mix of relief dancing in his eyes. "Well, that's a hell of a way to wrap up this crazy treasure hunt."

Sam nodded, a weary but satisfied smile on his face. "Yeah, it's about time."

Gabriel hung up their call and redialed his phone, fingers tapping quickly to connect with the others. He relayed the news, his voice a mix of excitement and authority. "Pack your bags, kiddos. The prodigal archangel has been located. We're done hunting. Meet us at the Northern Russia point."

The rest of the team received the message, and Castiel swiftly transported them to the location. The reunion was a mix of relief, joy, and a lingering tension. The group all surrounded the large tree, inspecting the runes on it. 

“What do you make of it?” Dean asked the group aloud. 

“There are runes and sigils in hundreds of languages, Enochian being the primary one.” Castiel informed. 

“Hmm, yeah, lots of High Enochian in there, too. All of these are containment and concealment spells, pretty trickly woven together too, if you ask me, damn.” Gabriel passed a hand over the spells, the runes growing brighter and hotter as he did. 

“Yeah, I’m going to have to take this apart slowly and then book it out of here with her. I have no idea the state she will be in so It could send up a huge beacon of Grace the size of a mountain so get ready to split before Michael shows. ” Gabriel cautioned. Pulling up his shirt sleeves, Gabriel knelt in the snow and slowly began to unravel the numerous enchantments. 

Dean, Sam, and the rest of the group exchanged glances, fully aware of the potential risks involved in this operation. None of them wanted Michael to show up, so they crossed their fingers and hoped Gabriel could keep a steady hand. 

As Gabriel continued his work, the runes responded by glowing brighter and hotter. The pulsating energy beneath the snow-covered landscape hinted at the power contained within the tree. The group remained on high alert, ready to spring into action at the first sign of danger.

Bobby squinted at the runes. "Gabe, you sure you got this? I ain't eager to tango with Michael again."

Gabriel shot him a confident smirk. "Bobby, my man, have a little faith. I've pulled off crazier stunts than this. We just need to be quick on our feet once Lucifer is up and about." he gave the old hunter a wink and went back to work, pulling apart the runes slowly. One by one, the runes and sigils sputtered out, until suddenly they all went out all at once. A crack opened in the knot, air steaming out at the loss of pressure. 

Gabriel cursed as Grace began to leak from the previously water-tight knot, glowing iridescent blood trickling out and onto the ground. He pried the crack open further, a wave of old blood mixed with ozone and dirt hitting his nose. 

He was able to see a tuft of white hair in the darkness of the knot and reached in, following the hair to a face and then to a neck, shoulder, and finally an arm for him to pull. One dirty pale hand breached the crack, followed by an equally dirty and pale arm, shoulder, then head.

Lucifer was injured, but in a lot better shape than they knew. Her once pristine wings were on full display, physical even for the human eyes. All sets looked fairly banged up and Gabriel let out a sigh of relief when he noticed all her injuries were stable. 

Gabriel pulled the sleeping archangel close and nodded to the others. The group quickly left, the two angels flying the humans and sleeping archangel out. Castiel followed Gabriel as he led them to his safe house that he had set up for Lucifer. 

Gabriel laid Lucifer on her back on a large plush bed, folding her wings into a more comfortable position across the comforter. 

He took note of her injuries, both to her true form and vessel. Her vessel’s once snow-white skin was now littered with hundreds of different runes and spells, ones he recognized to be more containment spells. No doubt to contain herself so she didn’t overload her vessel while also containing her Grace down enough to hide from Michael’s ever watchful eyes. 

With a gentle touch, Gabriel began the process of assisting healing. The glow of his hands bathed Lucifer in a soft, golden light as he helped to mend her wounds. He focused on stabilizing her vessel first, ensuring that the intricate spells wouldn't inadvertently harm her before moving onto her wings. The room was filled with a quiet hum of celestial energy as the healing progressed.

The humans and seraph remained silent as they watched, no one wishing to be the first to break the tension. They stared at her wings with mixed expressions, awe and curiosity being the biggest two. 

Sam ached to reach out and sooth over feathers, fingertips tingling as he imagined it. 

“Why is she still asleep?” Dean asked, finally breaking the silence. 

“Angel wings are a large source of Grace,” Castiel supplied, leaving Gabriel to his healing. “When damaged they bleed very viciously. With so many of her wings damaged, she lost a lot of her Grace. This resting state is a way to advance healing by prioritizing energy usage and minimizing output.”

“So hide and heal?” Dean asked. 

“Essentially, yes. Without a trained healer, this state is the next best option.” Castiel agreed. 

“Can he pull her out of it?” Adam asked, nodding towards Gabriel. 

Castiel nodded, “Once her wing injuries are more stable she will wake on her own. She is willfully in this state and will remain so until danger presents itself or she is healed.” 

As Gabriel continued the meticulous healing of Lucifer's wings, a subtle shift occurred in the room. The golden glow surrounding Lucifer's form intensified, and her eyes fluttered open. The serenity on her face remained, but a spark of awareness kindled in her gaze.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty," Gabriel greeted with a soft smile, his hands still bathed in light as he finished the last of what he could on her wings.

Lucifer's eyes focused on Gabriel, and a small smile played on her lips. "Gabriel, looking as good as ever," she greeted in a voice like a soft breeze, the fatigue from her long slumber evident in her tone.

Gabriel chuckled. "You've been napping for quite a while, Luce. Thought we'd lost you there for a bit."

“Oof, that doesn’t sound fun.” Lucifer slowly sat up, her damaged wings unfolding behind her, the intricate patterns on the feathers shimmering in the light. She took in the surroundings with a glance and then turned her attention back to Gabriel. "What happened?" she inquired.

Gabriel's smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "You and Michael had quite the throwdown. The battle left the mid-Americas a physical mess but the outer parts of the continent a supernatural mess. Oh I had to step in to prevent a demonic power vacuum at your humanitarian project. Your little demons were getting quite ambitious.” 

Lucifer groaned loudly, both hands coming up to cover her face. 

“How long was I out?” she asked, her voice muffled by her hands.

“Three weeks.” 

Lucifer let out a louder groan and flopped back down on the bed. She mumbled something, the grumbled words lost behind her hands.  

Her arms flopped down, "I underestimated Michael's tenacity. He's become more desperate, more ruthless." she stated. 

Gabriel sighed, “I gathered. Your chat with him went about as well as I expected.” Lucifer nodded in agreement. 

“I wasn’t expecting to get my ass handed to me and take a three week nap either.” She snorted. Lucifer’s gaze settled on the four humans and Cas. She gave them a tired wave. 

“Sammy over there was the one to find your hiding spot,” Gabriel said, indicating over to Sam with his head. 

Lucifer's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and gratitude. "Sam found me? That's unexpected."

"Yeah, the kid's got a knack for stumbling onto things," Gabriel remarked with a grin.

Lucifer let out a big sigh. “Fuucckkk I have so much work to do don't I?” Gabriel nodded mournfully back. “Shiiiiiit, and frogs were just starting to get cool.” 

The humans exchanged weird looks at that. 

Lucifer finally rose from the bed, her bare feet hitting the floor. Sam had a moment to marvel at how small The Great Deceiver was in her human vessel, and without her normal heels, she appeared even shorter than normal. He was not the only one to notice this from the looks on Bobby, Dean, and Adam’s faces, which ranged from amused to surprised. 

The looks were wiped off of all their faces when the light from the lamp hit Lucifer just right, causing the silvery scars on her body to shimmer. 

It looked painful. 

Sam looked away from her skin and focused on the next interesting thing: the Archangel’s wings. 

Lucifer's wings were large and beautiful, even in their current state. Whiter than snow, each feather glimmered with an iridescent rainbow hue as she stretched them out magnificently behind her, working the sore joints. There were intricate, silvery-blue patterns on the feathers that gleamed with a faint, silvery color, catching the light like a stained-glass window. It was Grace holding her damaged wings together in a celestial version of a scar. These scars on her wings mirrored those on her vessel, a testament to the battles she had fought and the wounds she had endured. Both from the distant past and now.

As Sam observed, he couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and sympathy. The scars, though beautiful in their own way, were extensive and hinted at an overwhelming amount of pain she must have endured to accrue such damage. The archangel turned her gaze toward the humans, meeting their curious stares.

"Quite a light show, huh?" Lucifer said, her tone a blend of nonchalance and a hint of self-deprecation. Lucifer was a very prideful being and despised the damage to her once-perfect wings. She ran a hand through her hair, the white strands falling in loose waves around her forehead and ears. That, along with the plain white loungewear Gabriel had changed her into, was the most unkempt Sam had ever seen her. It gave him a yearnful, domestic feeling. 

Dean broke the momentary silence with a low whistle. "You've been through the wringer, Lucifer." 

Lucifer chuckled, a touch of bitterness underlying the sound. "You could say that. Michael's been an asshole."

The atmosphere in the room grew tense as the group faced the seemingly insurmountable challenge of dealing with Michael. The Winchesters, no strangers to confronting powerful foes, suggested a direct approach – eliminating the threat permanently.

Dean crossed his arms, his gaze unwavering. "Look, we've taken down our fair share of big bads. Michael ain't gonna be any different. We gank him, end of story."

Gabriel, who was hovering worriedly over Lucifer, who was busy fending off Gabriel’s prodding fingers, shook his head. "Dean-o, you've got balls, I'll give you that. But you don't seem to understand the weight of Michael. Killing him ain't on the table."

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. 

“We Archangels are Pillars of Creation, one for each element, one for each “corner” of the Universe. The only reason Dad green-lighted Michael killing Luce is that Michael is a metric fuck ton stronger than any of us and can carry the weight of two Pillars. The rest of us? No bueno. We kill him and the weight of Creation that his presence holds up comes crashing down on the rest of us. Can we do it? Probably, but it's a pain in the ass and not a good course of action.”

“And there is always the possibility of things still sneaking through.” Lucifer piped up.

“Sneaking through?” Adam asked. 

“Ok ok, this is a lot of explaining to do so let's go sit somewhere more comfortable.” With a snap of his fingers, Gabriel relocated everyone to the living room where a bunch of plush animal print couches surrounded a cozy fireplace. 

Lucifer and Gabriel sat on the cow-patterned loveseat while the three brothers sat on the cheetah-print long couch, leaving Bobby and Castiel on the Zebra loveseat. 

“Alright kids, settle in.” Snapping his fingers again, everyone had a drink and food in hand. Gabriel noisily sipped on his brightly colored cocktail before speaking again. 

“Ok, so, where was I? Pillars yeah. So, each Archangel was created to hold up the… metaphorical table the universe sits on. Each represents a key element, Michael for fire, Luce for water, Raphael for earth,” he pointed to himself, “air.” 

“Now, once these pillars start going out, the ‘table’ becomes unstable, making our universe slip and slide around on it. Potentially … bumping into other tables.”

“Alternate universes,” Castiel spoke gravely, his gravelly voice humming through the room in revelation. Both Archangels nodded. The humans all sat for a moment, each processing the new information they had been given. Dean groaned loudly. 

“I can barely handle this world, let alone a whole other one’s bad guys ‘slipping in’. Killing Michael is off the board.” he said sternly. The group nodded as one. 

Bobby scratched his head. "Well, if we can't kill him, what's the plan? We can't just let him keep wrecking everything."

Lucifer leaned forward, her eyes locking onto the flickering flames in the fireplace. "We trap him. Permanently. And for that, we need something powerful enough to hold an Archangel."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What could trap Michael?"

Lucifer's gaze shifted to Gabriel, who sighed. "The Cage."

“I thought we broke The Cage when you were freed,” Dean said, looking at Lucifer in confusion. The Devil shook her head. 

“No, the door was opened but the structure remains. If we construct the key, we can reopen it and stuff his ass inside.” She said.

“How do we do that?”

“The horseman rings.” 

Gabriel peered over at Lucifer with a questioning look. “Dad told us that after you were gone, how’d you know that?” he asked. Lucifer side-eyed her brother and gave a wink. 

“We have a Wars ring,” Sam spoke up. “Got it off him shortly after The Cage opened. It’s in the car.”

“And I have Famine and Pestilence,” Lucifer spoke up, causing the group the turn to her. 

“I remember you grabbing Famine but when did you get Pestilence?” Dean asked.

“Shortly after dealing with Famine I realized how loose of a leash those three were so sought out the remaining one.” she shrugged, turned over her hand and the rings sat there, pulled from her subspace pockets. 

“We just need Death’s ring, then,” Bobby said, pulling his cap off for a moment to scratch at his scalp. His declaration was met with frowns all around. 

“He’s trapped as of right now, but we can free him. Somehow.” Lucifer said, her face pinched in thought. 

“Let me take care of that, I got a few ideas,” Gabriel said. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he continued to lay out the plan. "Alright, so we've got Famine, Pestilence, and War in the bag. Death's ring is the missing piece. We know where he's holed up, but getting to him won't be a walk in the park."

Lucifer leaned forward, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "Death is kept locked and chained in a magical coffin 600 feet under the Earth. The Host of Heaven only released him when God had something major planned. Last time he came up they built a boat.” he emphasized, looking at each human in turn. 

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "There is no way raising him won't send up some red flags so, how do we get to Death's coffin without Michael crashing the show?”

Lucifer scowled. "We need a distraction, something big enough to keep Mr. Heavenly Host occupied while we make our move."

Dam furrowed his brows. "Yeah and what could distract him and keep him from noticing Death 's release?" Lucifer gave him a look. “You?”

“Absolutely. Once I'm healed up enough I can lead him on a wild goose chase off planet.” 

“Yeah, 'cause that worked so well before,” Gabriel muttered under his breath, getting a stink eye from Lucifer in response. 

“I was unprepared. This time I won't be.” Her tone brokered no argument. 

The group conferred for a while, hammering out the plan until everyone was satisfied with their jobs. Gabriel would focus on finding a way to dig up Death and free him, Lucifer would continue to recover and work on bringing her legions to heel. The humans would work on Supernatural storm cleanup and assisting Lucifer.

Later, after they got Lucifer settled into the safe house more and left her in the bedroom to rest, Sam found himself alone in the kitchen, thinking deeply about everything that had occurred. 

Michael had demanded Dean and Lucifer said no. And, not only did she say no, she fought and almost died. Now, Sam knew she didn’t do it for Dean, she would have refused either way, but she didn’t have to keep Dean and Adam hidden, and she didn’t have to give Dean therapy, or give Bobby his legs back. She saved Adam from Michael and pulled him and Dean right out from under his nose in an act that was most definitely the cause of this current catastrophe. 

And Sam? Sam felt that. 

As Sam reflected in the quiet solitude of the kitchen, the weight of recent events bore down on him. He couldn't shake the realization that Lucifer, the once-feared archangel, had made significant sacrifices to protect them all. Despite their tumultuous history, she had taken extraordinary measures to safeguard Dean, Adam, and even Bobby, intervening in ways that defied all of his expectations. It felt as if every turn he made, she was defying those expectations in ways that surprised him. 

Sam couldn't ignore the significance of her actions.

It was a stark contrast to the perception he once held of her, the embodiment of evil and deceit. Every part of him had screamed she was not to be trusted, to be feared and wary of. 

Now he was wondering if he had been projecting a tad.  

Sam closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, heavy thoughts moving in his mind, changing his whole outlook. 

He promised from now on to give Lucifer the benefit of the doubt, to listen to her word.

She had earned it. 

The relentless pursuit of Michael cast a looming shadow over Kore's attempts to resume her plans. She chanced surfacing in public a few times, but wherever she surfaced, Michael was quick to follow, launching attacks that left destruction in their wake. The clashes wreaked havoc on the surroundings, and Kore found herself in a constant battle to protect her workers from Michael's ruthless onslaught.

The repeated confrontations had already resulted in injuries among Kore's followers, and the toll on her humanitarian projects became evident enough to be seen as a trend by her human followers. A blight on her reputation that was unacceptable.

 Unable to execute her plans directly, Kore resorted to sending ambassadors in her stead, making communication cumbersome and slowing down the progress of her various plans. She vowed to force all of her demons through tech class even if she had to kill the majority of them. Hell would be tech-literate within this decade, damnit! 

Kore, once a hands-on leader, now found herself in a strategic hiding, avoiding direct confrontations with Michael. Her focus shifted to safeguarding her assets and ensuring their well-being, even if it meant sacrificing her visibility and influence.

The disruptions caused setbacks in the timelines of various projects designed to benefit both supernatural and human areas. Each time Michael appeared, the potential for widespread destruction and casualties loomed large. It was enough to make her start pulling hair out. 

The dynamic between the two archangels evolved into a game of cat and mouse, with Kore having to strategically evade her brother's attacks and Michael persistently seeking her out. Kore found herself primarily at the safe house, having taken over a bedroom as an office for the time being. 

Ribbagoth and Nick both had demanded to return with her, which she approved of. However, Nick would remain primarily at headquarters to keep an eye on things in her stead, acting as a figurehead for her demons until she could step back into the limelight. 

Nick accepted his task with a pinched face but no complaints.

Ribbagoth was living his best life, now with Master home every day. Each day was filled with pats and food, every day was a good day for Ribbagoth.

Kore's days were filled with work. Work that quickly… ran out?

Emails took a lot less time than meetings, and she could only wait in the time between responses. She finished her current plots and plans, fleshed them out on paper, and set them to who needs them. She emailed and checked in with everyone. She even reorganized her calendar. 

Quite simply, after the daily emails were done, Kore had a lot of free time on her hands. And boredom was setting in fast . 

One way to ease it was to surf the internet for interesting things. Not much else to do in a box. But in 2010 the internet was so fucking slow and everything was so low-res, it was killing her. 

So, with her angelic eidetic memory and advanced cognitive skills, she delved into the intricacies of modern technology. She was determined to get her high-speed internet, goddamnit. 

Overnight the safe house, once a place solely dedicated to planning and recovery, transformed into a makeshift laboratory. Kore surrounded herself with computers, circuit boards, and various electronic components, immersing herself in the world of technology. The quiet hum of machinery and the soft glow of screens replaced the usual pen and paper scribbles that permeated the space.

As days turned into weeks, Kore's experiments bore fruit. She began developing faster and more efficient computers, pushing the boundaries of the existing technology. Her knowledge of the Universe, handed down to her from God Himself, helped a lot. 

Computer and phone processing became a priority. Kore designed and built advanced systems that facilitated quicker and more secure exchanges of information. The slow internet speeds that once frustrated her were now a thing of the past. The safe house became equipped with a network that surpassed the capabilities of any human facility on the planet within 3 months of her beginning her project. 

Her process was a lot more streamlined than normal developers, of course. As an archangel who could manifest anything she could understand? It meant any schematic she made was brought to life in an instant. And if a problem was found? Fixed then and there. It was a very handy advantage when one was feeling innovative. And immediate gratification was an archangel’s bread and butter. 

Video resolution, another source of irritation, became a focus of Kore's technological improvements next. She tinkered with cameras and monitors, enhancing visual clarity to a level previously unimaginable. The once grainy and pixelated images now displayed with crystal-clear precision.

She shared her schematics with her minions in the tech department of course, but without the advanced technology to make some of the equipment she just poofed into existence, she doubted they’d be able to recreate it any time soon. She kept the tech advances simple but useful. She didn’t want to overwhelm humanity with something like space travel, too soon. 

Lucifer's technological innovations spread beyond the safe house, subtly influencing the world's advancements, though few realized the source of these sudden leaps in progress. It would be a hot moment before mass production happened, but Kore was able to make a serviceable smart pad for her that worked with cellular data. She was able to sneakily update her satellites here and there to support the increase in usage, but it was well worth it to get high-speed internet she so desired.  

Her inventions were a marvel to the humans, who tapped and swiped at her touch screens and took pictures with her high-resolution camera lenses.

Speaking of the humans, they hadn’t been idle either. Sam and Dean, now featuring Adam, ran around the states, continuing to aid or contain the supernatural that had been displaced by the storm. They worked hand in hand with Mercury and his RRPSEBC program (or ‘Respect’ as they started to call it). 

Mercury had jumped into his job with a gusto that surprised Kore. The first apartment complex took some time to design, with a large group of individuals, both supernatural and human, collaborating. In her time asleep, the Roman pagan had amassed an impressive team of architects for the project, some being hundreds of years old. She was certain Bartholomew, a handy demon-made witch, had been an original architect for the gothic cathedrals; his soul certainly smelled old enough.

Mercury had been clever enough to use the storm as a scare tactic in recruitment, turning the majority of No's into a good amount of Yes’s. Kore checked in once in a while but was content to let them handle the design using their shared knowledge. 

Within a few months of the team going nose to grindstone the first apartment building broke ground on construction. She had, under the name of rebuilding, bought the majority of land the battle had destroyed from the people and government, carving out a solid chunk of the US as her private property. 

Kore received regular updates on the progress, pitching in her two cents and her resources to get the project done in record time. Her demons were surprisingly effective at construction, many using their enhanced strength and dexterity to perform their jobs far faster and safer than a human would. The witches and humans helped just as much, working on the land and building’s wards and sculpting the finer details of the building while the demons handled the heavy lifting.

Apartment building was a very lackluster word for it. A village or commune would be more appropriate. The cylindrical Highrise was in the middle of a large plot of forest land not far from her headquarters and deep within the Storm zone. The main doors were on the south side of the building and opened to a small lobby area with a large central desk where a doorman and a staff member would sit. Once one walked behind the large wall behind the desk, the space opened up to a large arboretum filled with different trees, flowers, and shrubbery. Live plants sat in raised stone beds along the common walkways. Instead of hallways, every apartment faced the center of the Highrise, where the arboretum resided. There was no roof in the center of the building, allowing fresh air and the elements to affect the plant life within. Birds chirped and fluttered about from tree to tree, settling on doorknobs to apartments and chairs sat out for people to lounge on. 

Thankfully, the area was spelled heavily, each brick and board placed with runes carved in for cleanliness and durability. The bird droppings would vanish after a moment’s time, as well as any spills or dirt that was tracked in from outside. 

The walkways through the arboretum were brick, with some tilted and leading to drainage pipes for the excess water to be collected, purified, and stored in the apartment’s water tank. Lifts were at the North, East, and West points of the building for the inhabitants' use. 

The building was completely run on hydropower from a number of water wheels along the river that ran through the land. There was a plan to install solar panels, but the cost was too expensive at the moment and Kore needed a free moment to study the devices, improve them within her abilities, and then create them with her grace. 

“I plan for each to be different, to suit the differing needs of the supernatural. I thought a more peaceful nature ambiance was better for the first group.” He explained as he one day as he walked her through the halls of the rather lavish building. She was only able to see the building because it was warded to hell and back the same as her safe house. 

“This one is geared towards the bipedal supernatural, the land-dwelling only for this complex. This building can house over 2,000 different residences, sized from studios to 4 bedrooms.” He turned to her, “What are you thinking about the rates?” 

“The ones housed here will be employed by MSI or SIN, the rent and utilities will be removed from their salaries automatically.” 

“Anything else?” she asked, noting Mercury’s desire to speak. 

“One thing,” he began, “many of our residences may have… appearances that are not accepted by the human population. They still need things like groceries and toiletries. Did you have something in mind? Or were I to provide those items?” 

“No, your time and efforts are too valuable to waste on food delivery,” she said. “Hmm, that is a good thing you brought up. I will look into having a grocery and convenience store placed into the bottom floor. We will add that into future builds as well.” 

“Very good, Ma'am.” 

Surprisingly, many of the people who worked on the first apartment building voiced their desire to continue with that career path within the company. Kore had originally intended to disperse demons to the job sites whenever needed, but having a trained group of construction workers under her employment sounded lucrative. Targeted and specialized training, combined with a passion for the projects they were working on, would mean greater productivity and innovation. Buzzwords that had Kore rubbing her hands together excitedly. 

Her Generals handled the bulk of the staff move, with a new branch of Mourning Star opening for the development and production of ‘green’ architecture. All head and lead by Mercury, who quickly pulled in his new romantic companion Hephaestus, that Greek patron of artisans, as co-leader. Mercury handled the social side, Hephaestus handled the builds and maintenance. Nick brought her rumors about the two’s involvement with each other but Kore did not understand the intricacies of watercooler talk and decided to stay out of it. 

Everything was going well, so very well. Plans were unfolding, her empire was building itself up from the ground at break-neck speeds, and Gabriel was close to cracking Death’s coffin. 

But of course, peace, as tremulous as this one was, never lasts. 

After it became clear that she would no longer return to the battlefield, Michael began to target her people, heading to any location that had any demonic presence. Entire buildings were burnt to the ground, inciting terror and fear into the general population. Rumors spread around the Americas of terror attacks and advanced weaponry that could change the weather in targeted locations, summon lightning, and cause wildfires. 

Michael made a true hindrance of himself. 

Her demons, witches, and other supernatural beings who had been living relatively peacefully in the human world now found themselves under constant threat from an unstoppable force. Her demons ran underground, shielding themselves from Michael’s divine wrath. Witches and other demonic creatures were shuffled off to safe houses until the apartment construction, which she kept a very low profile and carefully under Michael’s since the start, was done. 

The once vibrant energy of Lucifer's realm now felt tense and subdued. Her generals, a diverse assembly of humans, demons, and supernatural beings, all worked tirelessly to devise plans to outmaneuver Michael, but the archangel's relentless pursuit made it challenging to stay one step ahead. 

Her inability to directly confront Michael on Earth gnawed at her constantly. She knew that an open battle between them could result in catastrophic consequences for the very world she sought to influence. In a fair fight, she had a chance. But she couldn’t fight him safely on Earth, and so she remained hidden still. 

Kore's confidence, once unshakable, wavered. Doubt crept into her mind as she questioned her own ability to protect her people and fulfill her grand plans. The weight of leadership felt heavier than ever and she couldn't deny the reality that her powers, though vast, had limitations. Confronting an archangel of Michael's caliber required incredibly careful planning and immense strength – something she felt she lacked in her current state.

Michael, in his pursuit, proved to be a cunning adversary. He exploited every opportunity to strike at the heart of Lucifer's influence. Her once-subtle manipulations and behind-the-scenes influence were replaced with a more defensive stance. Kore's focus shifted from expansion to consolidation, from progress to survival.

She could not believe that one angel could set her back this far. She had millions of people under her employ but one Archangel had the entirety of it turning tail. The once-confident Morning Star found solace in the company of her pets, petting along their bumpy back as she contemplated how to reclaim the initiative and face Michael on her terms. 

Gabriel, all the while, worked on cracking the spells to Death’s coffin. He came to Kore with the good news 9 months after they found her. 

It was now November of 2010, and the leaves had just started to change outside the safe house. 

“It’s a lot more than I realized but I got it.” He said. He spread out a large piece of paper that was covered in looping scrawls and ink stains. Kore read it over slowly, looking over her brother’s plan in loopy calligraphy.

“Will this ritual work?” she asked. 

“Yeah, we have to perform it at the winter equinox, when light is at its darkest for the year.”

“Which is December 21st this year.” Kore hummed. Her finger traced over the sigil diagram that had to be carved into the surface of the coffin. “And this will not alert the Host?”

“Oh they’ll know when he’s free, no stopping that. But this,” he tapped the paper, “Will keep them from catching a whiff before then.” 

Kore finished reading and looked up at Gabriel, determination etched in every fiber of her being. 

“Then let's go get us a Horseman.” 

(AN Have a height chart for reference:

Chapter Text

AN: Name Change!!

Hello you guys!!!! 

So I’ve been thinking for a long time, and It is time to change the name of this character. 

Long story short, I used this character as a… projection? Of sorts. I was still going by my deadname when I started these stories and used my preferred name as the name of my main character! But now I go by it full time and it's a liiiiiitle awkward when friends want to read my stories 

Additionally, I think this character has evolved to be more than my own! I dont view this character as a self insert anymore, and with each story, this character evolves into more than i imagined! And it's largely in part to you guys, it might not seem like it, but I take a lot of your suggestions to heart! And I love to hear about how people feel kinship with this character. 

Soooooo 

Her new name is Kore. 

The reason I chose this name is because it's close to the original and I love the meaning and symbolism behind it! Especially in relation to this character. 

For those who do not know, Kore was Persephone’s name prior to Zeus renaming her.

One version of the legend says that, wherever Kore went, Chaos followed, for a number of reasons. This is why Zeus renamed her Persephone, which means  Bringer of death. 

Also the parallels, both are taken from their world into another where they not only survive, they thrive. 

So I think it fits!! 

I will be posting this notice on all my stories that have more than 1 chapter so sorry if you get multiple notifications!!! 

I hope you continue to love my stories as much as I love to write them! You have been a wonderful community to me <3

Chapter Text

(WARNING: VAUGE DEPICTION OF SUICIDE: its exactly 5 words long) 

Date: sometime May, 6 months before equinox 

Not all was well in the months leading up to Gabriel’s revelation. 

Sam, fresh from his epiphany of Lucifer’s character, attempted to rekindle his and Lucifer’s comradery, but was met with what was, essentially, a brick wall.

Questions were met with short, one word answers. Conversations were clipped and short. When Sam came into a room he was given a glance and then ignored. Every attempt Sam made to engage with her, whether to discuss strategy, offer help, or simply share a meal, was met with a polite but firm dismissal or a convenient excuse to be elsewhere.

Sam would admit he was getting really pissed off. 

He found himself pacing back and forth in the vast living room of the safe house, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and irritation. It had become painfully apparent over the past weeks that Lucifer was deliberately avoiding him. 

It wouldn't be so horrible if… he wasn't here. 

Nick. Her other vessel. 

Fucking prick. 

Sam's jaw was sore from constantly grinding his teeth since the man's arrival. Nick had been unexpected.

It had been days after their arrival at the safe house when he waltzed in though the front door, wearing a crisp red vest and dress pants, a pair of expensive sunglasses perched on his nose. He was toting a large suitcase in each hand and a pet carrier strapped to his side. 

He didn't even stop or brake stride as he barged in and through the house, making a b-line for Lucifer's rooms without a glance.

Only the fact that Gabriel, who was sitting at the dining table devouring an absolute monster of a panini, didn't stir at the new man's presence kept the humans from pulling out their guns and loading the intruder with lead and salt rounds. 

“Who the fuck was that?” Dean asked, perched on the arm of Bobby's current seat. The other humans, which included Sam, Bobby, and Adam, looked to Gabriel. The archangel made a muffled grunt behind a mouth of gyro and bread, waving his hand for them to give him a second. 

He chewed and swallowed, clearing his throat. “That's Nick, Luce’s personal assistant and errand boy.” He took another large bite, lettuce crunching under his teeth. He made another noise, as if just remembering something. “He's also her other vessel,” he said behind a mouth of food.

Sam, who had been sitting across from him with his laptop, felt his mind sharpen at Gabriel's words. He looked intently at the smaller man, his skin itching with questions. Where did he come from? Where has he been? How come she hasn't taken him as a vessel yet? Why does she even need another vessel? 

Gabriel, probably reading his mind, kept talking. 

“She found him out in the streets and took him under her wing. He's been her lead human ‘general’ so to speak, and has been handling the majority of the more ‘human’ things of MSI.”

“Like what? Empathy and critical thinking?” Dean shot out lightning quick, his face lighting up at his witty response .

“Oooo burn,” Adam piped up, reaching over to give Dean a solid high five. The two hooted and hollered for a bit, rubbing in the insult like a couple of children. Gabriel rolled his eyes long and hard, but his smirk remained. 

“What’s he doing here?” Sam ground out tersely, causing the angel to give him a considering glance. 

“As I said, he's her personal assistant. He’s probably here to be her runner since she can't leave the wards.” Sam wanted to bite out that h- they were here, and they could help her out instead of bringing another person here. 

Tension curved through his body like a steel frame, anger and frustration zapping down his arms and legs, leaving an itch that made him all the more heated. 

Dean, seeming to sense Sam’s rising temper, quickly changed the subject, turning it to the next case.

“Come on man, missing persons case in Toledo, three have gone missing.” Dean called back as he walked out of the front door to his car. Sam heaved a sigh, grabbed his laptop, and followed his brother out.

The car ride to Toledo was tense, the silence between the brothers heavy with Sam’s anger and Dean’s tension. Dean focused on the road, occasionally glancing at Sam, who sat rigidly beside him, his laptop open but forgotten in his lap. The air was thick with Sam's brooding thoughts, his mind replaying the recent events at the safe house on a loop, angry words chasing his thoughts around and around. 

"You've been quiet. More broody than usual. What's up?" Dean broke the silence, his voice carried a mix of concern and light teasing, trying to nudge Sam out of his silent reverie.

Sam let out a huff, his gaze still fixed on the laptop screen before him, though he hadn't actually read a word in the last thirty minutes. "It's just... Nick, Lucifer's personal assistant. Why's he suddenly so involved? Don't you think it's a bit... I don't know, risky? Bringing someone else into the fold like that, especially now?"

Dean glanced over, one eyebrow arched in skepticism. "Risky? Sam, come on. Lucifer's been around the block more times than we can count. She knows what she's doing. Plus, Gabriel seemed pretty chill about it."

Sam snapped the laptop shut, turning to face Dean fully, frustration evident in his tone. "But it's not just about knowing what she's doing. It's about safety, Dean. Our safety, her safety. This guy just shows up out of nowhere, and she's just... just letting him in. It doesn't sit right with me."

Dean let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he focused on the road ahead. "Safety? Sam, we're talking about Lucifer here. The woman who could probably snap her fingers and turn us inside out if she wanted to. I think she can handle her own when it comes to deciding who's safe to be around."

"But why him ?" Sam's voice rose slightly, his frustration peaking. "Why does he get to be so close to her, Dean? After everything we've been through, she still keeps us at arm's length, but this guy just waltzes in and gets a free pass?"

“ Us?” Dean stressed, giving Sam a long side eye. Sam scowled, turning to look out of the window with a huff. 

"It's just—why him? Why does he get to be so close to her when she won't even give me the time of day?" The words spilled out, raw and edged with jealousy.

Dean sighed, navigating the car through a particularly dull stretch of highway. "Lucifer's complicated, Sammy. And Nick's been with her for a while now, from what Gabriel said. It's not about you." 

"That doesn't make it any easier," Sam muttered, his gaze boring into the passing scenery, anger simmering just below the surface. He hated feeling this way—jealous, sidelined, and utterly confused.

"Sam, have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, she's keeping her distance because of how you've treated her? 

“I've changed! It's been weeks-" Sam started, but Dean cut him off, his voice firm.

"Sam, when have you actually apologized for any of that? For the accusations, the distrust, even after everything she's done to help us, to help the world? You're holding onto this grudge like it's some kind of badge of honor."

Sam's mouth snapped shut, the words catching in his throat.

"And she's not obligated to give you her time or attention, man," Dean continued, his voice softening slightly. "Lucifer's been through enough without having to justify herself to us, to you."

Sam scoffed, looking away. "Since when did you become so understanding? Therapy really change you that much?"

Dean nodded, eyes not leaving the road, seriousness replacing the playful banter from moments ago. "Yeah, it has. It helped me see things from different perspectives, get my head out of my ass. Maybe it's time you considered it too, Sammy. Not just for dealing with Lucifer, but for yourself."

The suggestion hung in the air between them, a silent challenge. Sam was taken aback by the earnestness in Dean's voice, the genuine concern for his well-being. He struggled to not let it sting, knowing it was coming from a place of concern and not judgment. It was a rare moment of vulnerability between them, and Sam struggled to come to terms with it, his pride wounded.

The car sped on, cutting through the night on a backroad highway, the occupants remained silent for the rest of night. 

Sam blinked his eyes open, his eyes squinting at the sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows on the opposite side of the room. His eyes narrowed and he sat up quickly, mind sharpening as he took in the unfamiliar room. 

He was in a bedroom, laying in a large plush bed with red flannel blankets and white sheets. The room was white with a high, sloped ceiling leading down to a floor-to-ceiling window that showed a stunning view of a garden. Ivy climbed up the wall, peppered with brightly colored flowers. Succulents and small shrubs sat in the shady parts of the rooms, book-ending rows of books that peppered every flat surface in the room. It was cozy and something Sam found himself admiring aesthetically. 

The hunter threw off the blankets and turned to the edge of the bed. He clothed in only a pair of sleep pants, leaving his chest bare. His bare chest?

Sam pressed into the blank skin where his anti-possession tattoo should sit, anxiety prickling along his neck and back. 

He looked around the room once again, noting the signs of life; the discarded clothes on a chair, bits of jewelry on the nightstand, and photographs. He was drawn to the images, taking in the alien scenes. 

Sam was in them, and so was Dean. Lucifer was there too, standing next to him and sometimes Dean, all smiles and affection as she leaned into either brother. There were pictures of his parents. Him standing side by side with his mother, one arm wrapped around her shoulders as they smiled at the camera. They appeared to be at Sam's graduation, with him wearing the customary gown and cap. His mother wore a nice floral dress and a shawl, her blond hair a mess from wind. Sam traced along the edge of his mother's smile, heart aching. 

But a few of the other images caught his eye, and gritted his brain in place like a record scratch. 

Lucifer and him hand and hand, leaning into each other. Lucifer and him lying next to each other on a couch. Lucifer and him mid kiss.

Moving down the room, the pictures spread across the wall like a timeline, showing the progression of him and Lucifer’s relationship. 

Sam's heart raced as he processed the images before him. He felt a strange blend of emotions—shock, confusion, but also an undeniable satisfaction at the sight.

He reached out, fingers brushing against the glass of a frame where he and Lucifer were laughing, her head thrown back in genuine amusement as she clutched his hand. It felt surreal, like peering into a life that belonged to someone else, yet the familiarity of his own features gazing back at him made it impossible to deny.

With bated breath, Sam left the room.

He found her in the kitchen, sunlight casting her in an ethereal glow as she hummed, a melody so sweet it seemed to fill the air with spun sugar. She wore a loose white T-shirt and a gray pair of leggings, a blue bandana held her hair out of her face as she leaned over the sink, elbows deep in dishes.

“Lucifer?” Sam called tentatively, stepping cautiously into the room. 

Lucifer's head rose to give him a playful stink eye, scrunching her nose up and pouting her lips. 

“Don't start that now, only my Dad gets to call me that, Mister Winchester.” She snarked, flicking some soapy water his way before turning back to her task. She picked up a glass cup and rinsed it under the running water before placing it on the drying rack next to the sink. 

“Luce,” he said again, hesitantly, creeping closer to the cleaning angel. Hands prickling, he reached out and placed them on her shoulders, turning her around. 

Lucifer made a small confused noise, but turned without resistance, head tilting back to peer up at him in question. 

Blue.

Her eyes were blue. 

"Good morning," she greeted, her voice a soft caress against his senses. Her eyes, a serene blue, were oceans of calm, lacking the turbulent storms he was accustomed to.

"Morning," Sam replied, drawn to her in a way he couldn't resist.

“You sleep well? Did the herbal tea work?” She said, reaching up and placing a warm hand on his cheek. She looked concerned, her eyes moving over his face, looking for traces of a bad night. “You've been sleeping so terribly as of late.” 

“It worked,” he said, softly taking her hand into his own, brushing his thumb over her knuckles, tracing the stone pattern of her wedding band with no small amount of glee. 

 This version of Lucifer was everything he had secretly yearned for—attentive, gentle, and entirely focused on him. There was no ignoring him, no brushing off his attempts at conversation. She was present, in a way the real Lucifer never seemed to be.

As they sat together, the simplicity of their interaction was intoxicating. She listened intently to every word he said, her responses thoughtful and considerate. There were no arguments, no underlying tension—just two people sharing a genuine connection.

Sam found himself enchanted by this version of Lucifer, one who didn't fight with him at every turn or leave him feeling like he was constantly vying for her attention. She was everything he wanted, a partner who offered unwavering support without the fiery clashes that defined his relationship with the real Lucifer.

This Lucifer was amazing and Sam found himself gravitating around her like a planet in orbit. He followed her around the house throughout the day. They lived in a small suburban house with a small, tidy lawn identical to the rest on the block.

The garden was an explosion of colors, crammed with an assortment of plants that left little room for movement. It was clear that every inch of space was utilized, the garden overflowing with a variety of flowers, herbs, and vegetables. The air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine and rosemary, a testament to the care and attention bestowed upon this tiny oasis.

Lucifer moved between the plants with a practiced ease, her hands gently tending to each. Yet, as Sam watched her, he couldn't shake off a growing sense of unease. This garden, lush and vibrant, seemed to be a wild, untamed dream compared to the woman who tended it.

"It's beautiful, Luce," Sam remarked, a genuine note of admiration in his voice as he took in the sight before him.

She paused in her work, wiping her hands on her leggings before turning to face him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you, Sam. It's one of the few places I feel... myself, I guess."

Her words hung between them, a silent acknowledgment of something amiss. Sam's heart sank as he picked up on the underlying sadness in her voice.

"You picked a great home for us," she continued, her gaze drifting back to the cramped garden. "I just wish there was more space...for the garden to grow, to breathe."

The implication of her words wasn't lost on Sam. This world’s Sam had made the choices, chosen their home, their life, without truly considering Lucifer's needs, her desires. This wasn't just about the garden and a nagging sense of unease began to infiltrate the idyllic world he found himself in. 

In an attempt to escape the suddenly stifling atmosphere of their home, Sam suggested going out to dinner, which Lucifer readily agreed to. They went to a little Italian place that wasn't far from the house, and the waiter quickly sat them in a window seat. 

Lucifer’s eyes rarely left him, her attention never wavered. It felt good. 

But Sam noticed how she perused the menu, her eyes scanning the options with an indifference that was foreign to him. The real Lucifer would have engaged the waiter in banter, inquired about the chef's specialties with a genuine interest, and made her choice with a decisive flair. Here, this version of Lucifer merely glanced at the offerings and, without much consideration, agreed to whatever Sam suggested. 

She picked at her food, eating in dainty bites where the real Lucifer would have taken a bite big enough to puff her cheeks out, her mouth opening as wide as she could to not get any on her face or lipstick. The real Lucifer would savor each bite, making noises of pleasure with each taste. 

This Lucifer talked with him and kept up the conversation, asking interesting questions or offering small suggestions, but she didn't lead the conversation, her presence didn’t dominate and demand attention. Sam found himself somewhat bored, their conversations lacking the spark that drew his attention. 

As dinner progressed, Sam's mind wandered, drawn inexorably to comparisons between this world's Lucifer and the one he knew—the one he was undeniably drawn to. He observed her across the table, her compliance and subdued demeanor sharply contrasting with the Lucifer who challenged him, whose presence was as undeniable as the sun in the sky.

"This is lovely, Sam," she commented after a particularly silent moment, offering him a smile that was meant to be reassuring. Yet, it only served to make Sam’s gut twist.

Sam nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, it's a nice place."

There was a moment when the waiter approached to refill their glasses, and this other Lucifer's response was polite but lacked the warmth and charm that the real Lucifer exuded effortlessly. 

As the meal came to an end, Sam found himself dissecting every moment, every interaction. The absence of lively debate, the lack of passionate discourse on arbitrary subjects, the absence of her radiant confidence that usually filled the space around her—all of it left him feeling hollow and disappointed.

When it was time to leave, Sam offered his arm, a gesture that was met with a gentle acceptance. They walked back to their house under the soft glow of streetlights, with Sam unwilling to fill the silence with more meaningless chatter. 

Back at the house, Sam excused himself early, claiming fatigue. Alone in their shared bedroom, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, grappling with the realization that what he thought he wanted…. wasn't what he desired at all.

A realization dawned on him, cold and unwelcome. This Lucifer was too agreeable, too compliant. Her eyes, though beautiful, lacked the spark of the woman he was inexplicably drawn to—the woman who challenged him, infuriated him, and captivated him at every turn. Even when infuriated, Sam was drawn to her.

It was a startling realization, the understanding that the friction he so often bemoaned was integral to the connection he shared with the real Lucifer. The debates, the stubbornness, the indomitable spirit—these were the things that drew him to her, the qualities that made their relationship dynamic and alive. She questioned his worldview and challenged him to be better. 

A challenge he had been failing utterly. 

His heart yearned for the challenge, the fire, and the passion of the real Lucifer. The one who stood her ground, whose laughter was as genuine as her anger was sharp, and whose complexities made her infinitely more interesting and desirable than this pale imitation. The realization that he preferred the tumultuous, vibrant reality to this docile dream was both shocking and revealing. It bared a part of himself that felt… ugly and judgmental. 

Sam didn’t want to be that person. 

He had a lot of work to do. 

With a deep, heaving sigh Sam took himself to the bathroom. 

And promptly slit his wrists. 

Sam woke with a gasp, his whole body on fire, but especially his neck and shoulders. 

He was suspended from the rafters of a burnt-out business on the edge of the town where the disappearances had taken place. He was tied with a piece of rope, his feet brushing the floor but not touching. His neck was burning, and a look to the left showed an IV extending outwards from his body.

Sam hissed in pain as he tested the strength of the rope holding him in place, his shoulders protesting strongly. With a bit of grit and no small amount of adrenaline, Sam was able to dislocate both of his thumbs and slide out of his bindings, which hurt like a bitch.  

He bit down a groan as he cradled his injured hands to his chest for a moment before reaching up to gently pull out the IV attached to his neck. 

Quickly, he shuffled out of the remains of the building, keeping low and quiet until he was well away from the area. He found a public phone quickly and wasted no time calling Dean. 

“Winchester,” Dean barked on the other side of the line, voice full of anger and worry.

“Dean, it's me.” Sam responded. 

“SAM!” his brother shouted into the receiver, “Where are you? Are you ok? It's been 2 days!” 

“It's a Djinn, Dean. It got me, but I got away.” He replied. Dean cursed on the other line and demanded his location, the sound of the impala’s engine revving up in the background. Sam listed off the nearest address and waited on the phone for Dean to get there, exhaustion weighing his body down. 

The two would go on to kill the Djinn and rescue the last victim, and, at the end, Sam swore to himself: he would do his best to mend his relationship with Lucifer, but on her terms. He had a lot to make up for. 

Sam could only hope she'd give him a chance. 

Chapter Text

Date: sometime in early June, 6 months before equinox 

In the aftermath of the Djinn's illusion, Sam found himself grappling with revelations that were as uncomfortable as they were enlightening. The false world he'd been trapped in had peeled back layers of his own desires and insecurities, exposing the raw, unvarnished truth he could no longer ignore. He wasted no time, guilt gnawing at his insides like live rats, leaving him incapable of thinking of anything else. Anxiety crawled up his sides as he rehearsed his apology over and over on the drive back to the safehouse. 

Dean left him to it, perhaps sensing the change in Sam, and kept the music low and his mouth shut. Sam hated to say it, but he was grateful. 

He had seen a version of himself and Lucifer that was, on the surface, a perfect relationship, but ultimately was a relationship built on his own terms that lacked the depth and vibrancy of their real interactions. It was a painful acknowledgment, one that forced him to confront the truth of his feelings towards Lucifer.

Jealousy, anger… resentment.

But resentment towards what? To her companions? Her actions?

Her redemption?  

Sam had done some terrible things. He had hurt people, been selfish and foolhardy. In the privacy of his own mind, Sam admitted that he didn’t feel redeemable, that his actions were so horrible that he didn’t deserve forgiveness. 

But then Lucifer came in, the Queen of Past Mistakes, and she was out there on a redemption arc that blazed the fiery path through the sky for others to follow. She would continue to rise and thrive, and continue to reach back and grasp the hands of those in need and raise them with her. 

And Sam was.. What? Intimidated? Jealous? He felt foolish in hindsight, in how blind his emotions had made him. 

The first step, he decided, was an apology—a real one, born from a place of humility and genuine regret. 

When they returned to the safehouse, Sam quickly retreated to his and Dean’s shared room, on the opposite side of the house from Lucifer. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts, and gather his nerves.

"Lucifer, can we talk?" Sam's voice was steady, despite the racing of his heart.

Lucifer, who had just come downstairs from her office, regarded him for a long moment, an unreadable expression in her eyes. Finally, she nodded, gesturing for him to follow her to a quieter corner of the room.

"I owe you an apology," Sam began, the words coming out choppy with his anxiety. "I've been... difficult. More than that, I've been unfair to you. My actions and my words were out of line, and I'm sorry."

Lucifer listened in silence, her posture relaxed but attentive. Her face was flat and expressionless, and Sam’s heart thumped in his throat as he pushed forward.

"I've been thinking a lot about... everything. About us, about how I've treated you. And I realize now that I've been holding onto anger and resentment without truly understanding you or your actions. That's on me, and I want to do better."

He paused, searching her face for any sign of her thoughts. "I know I can't change the past, but I'm committed to changing how I act in the future. I want to understand you, Lucifer, truly understand. And I hope... I hope you can give me the chance to do that."

Lucifer’s face seemed to pinch inwards in thought. Her blood red eyes scored holes through him, searching for a hint of dishonesty. After a long moment of Sam holding his breath, waiting for a response,Lucifer gave a small nod.  

“I am willing to move forward, but I need to see effort and change to accept your apology in full.” She said finally. Sam let out a huge breath, a large weight leaving his shoulders. 

“I can do that,” he said breathlessly. Luce gave a sharp nod and turned to leave. “Wait!” Sam called. The archangel turned back, one eyebrow arched. 

“I was wondering if you could get me into therapy? Like you did with Dean?” He asked. The other eyebrow joined its sister at the top of Luce’s forehead.

 “I see he's doing really well,” he hurriedly explained, weirdly anxious. “And I want to, too. Get better.” Sam resisted the urge to fidget, shuffling his feet like a child in trouble. 

Luce’s expression smoothed to a more neutral, but expressive face. “I'll take a look.”

“Thank you,” Sam said, the tension once again released from his sternum like acid lanced from a wound. Luce turned and walked off, conversation finished. 

Hope sparkled like a diamond in his mind, and small fantasies fluttered around his head for hours after. 

July

Kore had been surprised by Sam’s apology and his request for therapy services, but pleasantly surprised. It was no strain for her to reach out to some feelers and find someone who would suit Sam’s needs. She didn’t want to pair him with Beck, Dean’s therapist, out of bias. Beck’s current working relationship with Dean could color some of her interactions with Sam, which is why she wanted to find someone new. 

Kore decided to kill two birds with one stone and also look into services for her employees. 

There were not a lot of support services in her company at the moment, Demons didn’t need healthcare or the like after all. But with the large influx of human and supernatural creatures, her workforce’s needs changed. She dedicated a few days of her time to looking into mental health services, only in the US since her main workforce was there. She had plans to expand her influence to Asia and Africa within the next two years, and would shuffle through their policies and regulations then. Or change them if she didn’t like them. 

In her searches, she found several underfunded mental health clinics with tiny staffs of equally underpaid therapists and social workers. It didn’t take much to get them all to sign a deal to work for her company as an acquisition, her entry package having free healthcare (including dental and vision) and affordable housing, along with a nice sign on bonus for each. They would keep their companies, but the companies would be owned and regulated by Mourning Star. 

It wouldn't be enough for long, her growing workforce doubling almost every month and currently sitting around a hundred thousand across the states and peppered throughout the rest of world. 

She set Sam up with a man named James Roland, one of the social therapists at one of her acquisition companies. The man had a child with late stage cancer, and ,for a deal, the child was healed and Mr Roland was on her permanent retainer. After a quick crash course in supernatural, she set Sam up for an appointment. 

The first, and even the second appointment, went well. But Sam didn’t seem receptive to Roland’s brand of therapy, which was more Humanistic therapy, with cognitive and behavioral strategies mixed in. It was a bit too holistic for Sam, who craved a more logical approach, but would be perfect for Adam. Kore switched the two, and found Sam an expert in a more long term therapy approach. Kasy May, another human she was able to latch a deal onto, provided a more psychodynamic therapy, which Sam latched onto like a lifeline. Kore believed that the talk therapy worked better for Sam, digging into his past and unearthing some of those self worth issues his Dad gave him. 

Kore was pleased with the progress the three brothers were making, and she hoped a lot of the challenges that popped up in the later Seasons of the show could be avoided. She had high hopes. 

August

Michael’s first attacks started in august. Kore had finally healed completely and was attending an opening of a new, environmentally non-disruptive hydropower facility along the Mississippi. It worked by drawing off a portion of the river into underground channels that compacted and strengthened the waterflow for maximum output before draining back into the river. The facility was also underground, with a small entry building on the surface to minimize disturbances to the environment. 

She was just cutting the ribbon in front of the doors, press cameras flashing and a series of cheers ringing out. The cheers quickly turned to screams as the small building was engulfed in flames: white hot tongues of fire reaching up from the ground and wraping around the building like vines before the flames spread and consumed it. 

Kore hissed in anger, her Grace reaching out to smother the flames but was unable. The holy fire originated from Michael's; she could feel it, and was able to trace the force back to its owner who was currently hovering several miles above them. To humans, he was barely a speck against the blue skies, but Kore could see him as clearly as if he stood 2 feet in front of her. 

He was already casting another bout of flame, this one aimed at her. 

Kore was far too close to the ground, people and supernatural beings surrounded her, some running in panic, others trying fruitlessly to douse the fire. Kore leapt from the ground into the air, taking Michael’s attack head on min-air instead of on the ground. 

His fire singed her feathers and scored her scales, but did no true damage. She was quick to lead him away from the group and into space, leading him on a merry chase throughout the stars until she lost him somewhere around Alpha Centauri. 

She came back to the safe house smelling of burnt hair, but unharmed. She allowed her brother and the humans to fawn over her for the night, but continued on with more caution. 

But, no matter the sigils she gouged into her vessel or wards she carved into carrying stones, Michael found her. His power was immense, far stronger than any ward fit for transportation. Only the long term blood wards of the safe houses and the Respect commune seemed to keep his eye away. 

She would have to stay inside. 

September-October

September was when Michael began to up the stakes.

After her seclusion went on for several weeks Michael began to attack any area with a high demonic presence. Which happened to be her clean up and construction projects. The losses were staggering. Thousands of her demons perished, consumed by the holy fire that rained down from the heavens. Humans, supernatural creatures, beings who had sought refuge and purpose within the shadow of Mourning Star, were caught in the crossfire, their lives snuffed out by an uncaring, unstoppable force. 

This forced Kore to change some things around to increase security and minimize losses. 

Kore had to shuffle around product shipments and crews, moving more demons onto the warded ground to prevent them from attacks. A good portion were moved back underground before Michael destroyed her main Hell gate in the States, operating in the first few layers of hell to keep things moving.The paperwork was horrendous and sparked her tech binge that lasted for the rest of the month and well into November. 

 She had not returned to the headquarters since the attack, and, from what Nick informed her, that smaller hell gate was still operational but under constant watch. No demon could set foot on site without disintegrating. 

Probably a spell, Kore thought to herself with anger, one no doubt I will have to undo myself. 

She was unable to go to the damage sites herself, and dispatched Nick or another demon grunt to be her eyes, forming a tether to their minds so she could peer through their eyes as they walked around. Kore was very unhappy with the wanton destruction and loss of progress, many lives of unique and interesting individuals, individuals who could have been an asset to her plans and people, lost. 

What a waste . 

Kore would often find herself sitting at her desk at the safehouse, eyes a million miles away as she pet Ribbagoth, a silver medallion rubbed smooth between her fingers as she stewed in anger. 

The first apartment building was finished in this time, and provided a great deal of relief for her and her people, the large space able to hold the majority of her displaced workforce. The safe houses had been getting cramped, and even her supply of entertaining new tech couldn't keep the cabin fever away. Her demons especially were restless and stirring up trouble in the meantime. She’d have to find something more for them to do…

November (now)

Gabriel’s findings were a breath of fresh air for Kore. Preparations were underway immediately, with as few people involved as possible to minimize risk. Rare ingredients were prioritized, with Gabriel handling the more tender harvesting. 

There were all sorts of odd or dark ingredients, or had to be retrieved while the harvester was in pain or duress. 

10 human hearts, whole. Hide of deer, soaked in blood. Leaves from the First Tree, crushed. Spine of a major Saint, whole. A crow head, whole. Dirt from 100 gravesites. 

Kore took a deep, unneeded breath as she laid the final ingredient out on the main table. 

“Now what?” Dean asked, looking down at the assorted ingredients with morbid fascination. 

“Equinox is tomorrow, we go to the site and light this up. I’ll be drawing Michael’s attention elsewhere. It will be up to you all to fight off any other angels sent to stop you.” Kore said, not looking up. She did not look forward to her confrontation with Michael, it went poorly every time he showed his face and she was left injured and scrambling to clean the mess he made. With a steely resolve, she prepared for the inevitable clash, knowing that the fate of her hard-earned peace hinged on the success of tomorrow's ritual.

Death was not in Carthage Missouri. Well.. he was but technically he was anywhere and everywhere, but the ritual concentrated him into his physical form, enough to pull from the earth and summon. 

Sam watched as Gabriel began to add the ingredients one by one, chanting and howling into the wind with each offering. Luce was far away, no doubt already leading Michael astray. 

There were large pillars standing around the clearing, each made of obsidian with veins of gold spider-webbing through it. Each pillar was carved and etched by a hundred humans over an entire month (Luce had compensated them handsomely), all the while chanting and dedicating the pillars to Luce, which added to their power. The runes etched upon it glowed a molden gold, the tiny script swirling and catching the torchlight. They were incredibly strong wards, stronger than any of the safehouses or communes combined. 

The power this ritual would put out was expected to destroy the pillars entirely, which sent a dark chill up Sam’s back. 

Gabriel first dumbed out the wheelbarrow of graveyard dirt onto the ground in a circle, covering the grass with a thick coating within the pillars. 

Gabriel carefully laid out the hide of a deer, fully soaked in innocent blood and glistening under the dim light of the waning moon, the brilliant white of the hide stark against the black dirt. 

Next, he placed the human hearts upon the hide, and the air thickened, a palpable tension that made even the bravest among them swallow hard. The ground beneath their feet seemed to moan and shift. The hearts began to beat, their thumbs reverberating across the clearing and setting the humans’ hair on end.

With a reverent touch, Gabriel lit the crushed leaves from the First Tree over the hearts, allowing the ashes to fall evenly over them. A wind kicked up from nowhere, swirling around them, carrying whispers of ancient screams.

The spine of a major Saint was next, placed carefully in the center of the hide, below the hearts. As it touched the other ingredients, a solemn silence befell the area. No sound could escape him, and even the wind was silent as it blew through the clearing.

Gabriel then placed the crow head, still whole, at the head of the hide. Shadows coalesced around them, forming figures that danced at the edge of Sam’s vision: Reapers, their twisted faces, leering and screaming for attention.  The crows' eyes gleamed: alive, watching, judging.

As the ritual's potency reached its zenith, the ingredients on the blood-soaked hide began to undergo a startling transformation. Sam felt it. The air thickened and condensed, it was almost impossible to breathe under the flood of dark magic that filled the area. 

The pillars began to crack, the sharp edges smoothing away as they disintegrated under the ritual’s power. He could feel the presence of something great on the edge of his awareness. It made his hind brain sit up, his instincts screaming at him from every side to run run run! 

Death was near. 

Sam watched in morbid fascination as the hide closed around the ingredients, encapsulating the organs and bone to form something somewhat human shaped but a lot more grotesque and malformed. 

The being that emerged from this maelstrom of dark magic and sacrificial offerings was nothing short of eldritch, a being of nightmares that defied the laws of nature. It towered within the confines of the crumbling obsidian pillars, a mass of shifting flesh and dark, inky smoke, with eyes that burned with an otherworldly fire. Sam, and the other humans present, fell to their knees under the weight of Death’s presence. Screams rang out and Sam was barely able to move his head to look in the direction of the noise. 

Adam writhed on the ground, his psyche unaccustomed to such pressure and tortured him with visions of his death at the hands of the ghouls. Sam tried so hard to get to him, crawling along his belly to reach him, all the while plagued by his own visions of death and pain . 

Sam gasped in relief as a hand touched his back, between his shoulder blades. A brilliant warmth chased away the icy hand of Death, trickling along his bones and pushing back the terrible visions and sense of impending doom. He laid there, panting for air as Gabriel stepped over him and moved onto the next brother. The screams broke off into choked sobs. 

Sam was able to angle his head slightly so he could continue to watch, the strength sapped from him and left him prone, but conscious, on the ground. 

The energies began to stabilize, the entity's appearance slowly shifting, condensing and reshaping into a form more familiar and palatable to the human psyche. The eldritch being's features softened, its form shrinking and becoming more defined, until standing before the assembled group was Death, in human form. 

“Gabriel.” The entity greeted. It manifested as a man, a pale, drawn man with inky black hair and equally inky eyes. A large swath of black fabric wrapped around them like a toga, the fabric deadly still even in the breeze. 

“Death,” Gabriel greeted back, giving a short, shallow bow at the waist before straightening. What the humans couldn't see was Gabriel’s wings, which had shifted into a subservient position in deference to the entity's power and standing. 

“I heard your offering.” Death said ominously, its eyes never leaving the archangel. Gabriel gave a stiff nod and handed over a short, rusted hand-held sickle. Death seemed to observe the weapon closely before seeming satisfied. It held out its other hand, extending it to Gabriel in offering. 

Sam was unable to see from his current angle, but knew the entity was offering its ring in exchange. 

There was little excitement after, surprisingly. Gabriel gathered up the humans and cleaned the ritual site spotless before moving everything back to the safe house. Luce showed up a few hours later, her diversion having been successful and she remained unharmed in the process. The plan had gone surprisingly smoothly.

 They had been expecting a fight, something or someone coming to stop them. The pillars were gone, disintegrated down through the atom. They were out in the open, there was no way The Host, or Michael, could not sense what they were doing.

But no one came, how odd.

Chapter Text

(not my art! made using AI, was going to use it as a reference for drawing/imagery but i like this too much)

She found them the day after the equinox.

Kore had been checking in on each of her safe houses and was on her way to the Respect Commune. The pillars of thick, dark smoke alerted her of trouble long before she reached the borders. 

The land reeked of Angel Grace.

Kore landed at the end of the drive, taking in the ruin of her commune.

It was destroyed. The large building that had been the heart of her community was nothing but a burnt and melted husk, its steel bones twisted grotesquely, as if in agony, under the weight of its own ash.

She moved through the remnants of what was once a sanctuary, the acrid smell of burnt wood and flesh hung heavy in the air. She didn’t need to guess to know what became of her people. 

Kore felt no life for miles, the trees were bare and charred, the land scorched to the Earth in a new version of Sodom and Gomorrah. 

She stepped forward, further up the drive, a stray piece of energy stopping her in her tracks. Kore moved her foot, squatted, and began sifting through the rocks and debris where she had stepped to reveal the brick driveway underneath. Enochian sigils were burnt into the brick, still sizzling from the remnants of the spell. She read over the sigils and was able to determine the spell quickly. 

It was a containment spell. To keep them from escaping. 

To keep them from escaping…

Kore felt her Grace tremble within her vessel, a new, unknown feeling curling in her gut and clogging her throat. 

Amidst the ruins, the extent of this atrocity fully dawned on Kore. For the first time, she found herself grappling with a sorrow for mortal existence, a mourning for the tragedy of potential unfulfilled, of dreams turned to dust. 

What a waste. What a waste .

She hesitated, but continued forward, determined to see the extent of the destruction. 

The building was still smoldering, the large structure no doubt blazing throughout the night and well into the morning. 

In the epicenter of the destruction, the sight that unfolded was chilling. Thousands of bodies, reduced to charred husks, lay heaped in the remnants of the building. In their current state, she could not tell them apart, even with her Grace she could not tell which of her team had been there or not, who had died, and who had escaped. 

Kore stood, immobilized by the scene, her emotions a blend of shock, grief, and disbelief . The sheer scale of Michael's brutality, his complete disregard for life, was staggering . She had understood him to be a formidable force, yet this act revealed a level of savagery she hadn't attributed to him—a depravity that shook her once iron-hard perception of his character.

In that moment of revelation, Kore recognized the enormity of the threat they were up against. Michael had transcended the role of adversary to become a harbinger, his sanity frayed, his actions driven by a- a zeal that Kore could scarcely comprehend. She had underestimated his capacity for destruction, and the consequence of that miscalculation lay before her.

As Kore stood amid the devastation, the initial shock gradually gave way to a cold, simmering fury. The air around her seemed to throb with her anger, the ground itself quivering in response to her power. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel the full weight of this grief, her Grace flickering with the intensity of her emotions.

Then, steeling herself, she began to move through the wreckage with purpose. Every step was measured and tight as she fought to control herself. The remains of her people, of her hopes for a peaceful life, lay scattered before her, but she refused to let this act of barbarism go unanswered. 

Kore stood in the center of the bodies, her white heels sinking into the charred remains. She extended her awareness out, opening every one of her thousands of eyes to peer into the Other side. 

The souls of the humans who had sought refuge here remained, tethered to the earth from the tragedy of their deaths. They could not move on; they would remain here, tied to the land, to fester until some hunter came and cleansed the ground. 

But not for her people. 

There had only been a few hundred humans in the commune, Demons she could not save, and Purgatory had more claim to the supernatural creatures’ souls than she did at the moment. 

With a slow swell of power, Kore began to guide the lost souls to herself. Silvery wisps pulled themselves up from their hiding spots in the cracks and crevasses. They trickled over to her, coating her hands in a soft white light. The whisps consolidated into silvery pendants that she gathered close. 

Kore would not let this go unanswered, she would not let this go unpunished. 

It was clear now that Michael had reached a breaking point. There was nothing she could do or say that would stop him in his warpath. He had gone mad , and he was after her head…

… and he would go through as many people as it took to get to her.  

Chapter Text

* Grace = an Angel’s self, or ‘soul’

* grace = an Angel’s power

 Kore remembered a time before her Fall, long before her descent into madness and subsequent redemption. 

Heaven had been a gentle place once, full of so much love and passion that it rivaled the brilliance of their Father Himself. Their collective love could outshine the stars and put the Milkyways to shame. 

Michael had been the gentlest of them. He had raised Lucifer from the Beginning, loving and caring for them when their Father was busy building Creation. He taught her to fly, soft, warm hands holding her up by the underside as they coasted on cosmic breezes. He had shown her how to groom the younger angel’s feathers without accidentally hurting them, to move her much larger fingers in small, precise movements. 

He was so strong, and he took so much onto himself. His responsibilities were never ending, and he carried the weight of the Host on his shoulders more and more as time had passed. It was why she volunteered to take the Mark. Originally, Michael had been chosen to take it, to hold the key to Amara’s cage. She had felt the need to reach out and beg Father to let her take on the Mark, she was strong enough to handle it. 

Oh how she handled it…

She remembered Michael’s expression when she had told him the change of plans, she had been so eager to help ease his responsibilities that she had not thought of anything else. Michael had not been happy. 

In hindsight, she could see he had felt shunted, pushed to the side by the Favorite once again. He had told her it was not her responsibility, not her place. They had fought, shouted and cursed each other for days, their screams shaking the entire 7 spheres. 

The fights only got worse after she took the Mark. 

Maybe that’s when it began, the first seeds of Michael’s insanity. 

Maybe it was out of resentment for her, but she believed it to be guilt. Michael had a habit of taking the burdens of others onto himself, he was strong enough after all . 

Kore could only imagine how he felt during her Fall. 

She yearned to reach out, to sooth his damaged heart and tend to his wounded mind, but she knew they were far past that. He had done too much, had gone too far. 

Kore knew she was no shining beacon herself, but she hoped (and almost prayed) that Michael would find the same Salvation she did while within the Cage. A few billions of years of self reflection might help. 

Facing Michael again worried her. 

Kore’s vessel was in tatters and she was holding it together with the celestial version of hot glue and duct tape. She had carved thousands of tiny runes and sigils into her skin, which she had then sunk into her dermis to hide from humans. The spells did well to hold in the frayed edges, as long as she didn’t do anything strenuous, it would hold for a year or so. 

But fighting Michael, and forcing him into the Cage would most likely destroy it.

She needed a backup, and she was very reluctant to ask Sam for help when he was so fresh into their cease-fire. And, call her prideful, she didn’t want to ask him for his help, or give him a huge out after being a titan-class dickwad. 

 Good thing she had Nick, who she could modify a bit with some spell work to hold her long term until she could find a more permanent solution. The man had seemed oddly enthused with the plan when it was presented, but the idea was set. 

Kore loved how over prepared she was sometimes, Thank You Anxiety. 

She did have a few more plans in the work, it kept her cooped up demons busy with something to do, thankfully. 

Kore threaded another silvery medallion into place, whispering a soft chant under her breath as she tied it off and cut the thread. Unicorn hair thread was surprisingly hard to come by, and she needed every inch. In her hands was a hip-length goat-leather coat, of which she was painstakingly covering with soul medallions. Noone had ever done something like this as far as Kore was aware, and she was curious to know what would happen. In theory, the souls would grant her additional protection against Michael. She only had around a thousand medallions in her possession, and each one went into the coat, more layers in the shoulders and arms than the waist.

She felt… odd when she slipped the coat on. A blanket of souls rested against her Grace, holding her aura down for a moment before she slipped through the cracks and filled the space once again, the souls now an added layer to her form. 

It was like a giant hot pack against her, the warmth was… soothing. 

Kore flexed her wings, her jaw tensing and head cocked to the side as she experienced, and accepted, the odd feeling. 

It was scarcely a week after getting Death’s ring that they went through with their final plan. 

They all gathered at Stull cemetery in Lawrence Kansas (note to self: find that fucking bunker). The humans, which included Bobby and the Winchester trio, as well as Castiel, Kore and Gabriel. The humans were to clear out shortly, after helping finish setting up the scene. She did not know why they insisted on coming when her and Gabriel would have been sufficient, Gabriel said something dumb about them ‘caring for her wellbeing’ but she was iffy. 

Kore was… fuck she was anxious. The graveyard around her spooked her, not because of the dead or anything similar, but because the entrance to The Cage lay under her feet, and in a few moments, it would open again. 

The intention was to shove Michael in the hole, but she knew he wouldn't go down without a fight. There was a chance he could overpower her and kill her, or that she could be thrown inside instead. But Michael was set on killing her not containing her, so it was unlikely. But the idea loomed like a dark shadow over Kore’s mind; it filled her thoughts with years and years of isolation, of loneliness, of throwing herself against the bars just to feel something other than the burning acid eating her from the inside and the guilt in her heart. 

She hadn’t noticed her vessel was trembling until Gabriel placed his hands over hers, drawing her attention back outwards. 

“Hey,” he said gently, looking at her in no small amount of concern. 

She took a moment to steady herself “Why am I so fucking scared? This is bullshit ,” she hissed, her voice more wobbly than she would have liked. 

“Trauma be like that. You’re about to confront two things that have hurt you terribly, it's ok to be scared.” he said lowly, so none of the other gathered people would overhear.

“I know.” She said, “It's some bullshit.” 

Gabriel gave a small chuckle, his grip on her hands tightening reassuringly. "It might be bullshit, but it's our bullshit to handle. And you're not alone in this, remember that."

Kore nodded, drawing a deep, unnecessary breath as she prepared herself mentally for the task ahead. The weight of the soul-laden coat seemed to anchor her, the whispers of a thousand spirits soothing along the edges of her Grace. 

"Just think, after today, it might be over," Gabriel continued, trying to lighten the mood. "Michael in the Cage, you finally get a chance to relax without looking over your shoulder every five minutes."

Kore managed a wry smile at that, her nerves slightly eased by Gabriel's presence and words. "Relax, huh? I haven't done that in a few millennia. Might be nice."

“I hear the Bahamas are nice this time of year.”

“Oof, I may be too pale for that much sun.”

“Yeah, and blind the people around you with your reflective skin.”

“Ha! Who needs a lighthouse? Just stick me on the top and turn.” the two dissolved into snickers. Kore loosely tangled her wing into Gabriel’s, the gesture much like hand holding but a touch more intimate. 

Gabriel gave her a deep, earnest look. “Please, stay safe and don't die.” he said quietly, his hands squeezing hers. A half hearted smile was all she could muster up. 

“I’ll try. Just… stay back ok?” she said, “I'm more on his footing, but I won't be able to concentrate on him if I'm worried about you ok?” Gabriel nodded.

“I’ll be working the containment spells and wards. Hopefully we can minimize the damage.” 

Since this fight had to be on the ground, Kore had to take some lengthy precautions in order to keep the damage to a minimum. Last time they truly fought, the Storm Zone happened, which spanned over several states. This fight was shaping up to be even nastier. Kore fretted over the damage, so precautions were taken. 

The surrounding towns had been evacuated, the Kansas state government sending out a mandatory evac for an ‘incoming freak of nature storm’ that was reported to be ‘destructive and biblical.’ She had gotten a small chuckle from the weather reporters' wording. 

Along with the evac was a series of pillars, similar to the ones used for summoning Death. She knew these would work better this time; an Archangel grace, while powerful, did not have the same inevitable and unstoppable force that Death possessed. Archangel’s had more range and abilities, but the power of Death could not be held. As such, Archangel grace was easier to contain, the pillars would hold. 

The setup was meticulous, the pillars etched with complex Enochian sigils and interwoven with lines of silver and platinum—a blend designed specifically to counteract angel energies. Kore and Gabriel had designed them and tested them already, both were confident they would hold.  

As the sky darkened, an unnatural chill settled over the cemetery, the atmosphere thickening with Michael’s imminent arrival. Kore adjusted the soul-laden coat around her shoulders, each medallion a tiny beacon of soft, tender light in the dimness, their collective presence a comforting weight against her Grace.

“Everything’s ready,” Castiel announced, joining them by the central pillar. His eyes, usually a calm sea of blue, were turbulent with concern. “The sigils are active, and the barriers are holding steady.”

“Good,” Kore nodded, her gaze scanning the horizon for any sign of Michael. The anticipation was a tangible thing, vibrating through the air like a plucked string. “It's time for the humans to leave and get to safety.” she looked at Castiel, who gave a sharp nod.

Dean grunted, his expression sour but resigned. “Just make sure you kick his ass, alright?”

Kore couldn’t help but smile, a brief flash of warmth in the cold night. “Plan on it.”

Sam, standing a bit apart, cleared his throat. “We’ve set up remote monitoring from a safe distance. If things go sideways, we’ll know and be ready to assist.”

“Thank you, Sam, but let’s hope it won’t come to that,” Kore said. The four humans grabbed onto Castiel’s arms and the seraph took flight, bringing them back to the safehouse to watch from safety. 

Kore looked over at Gabriel with sad eyes. “You could go now, too.” she said softly.

Gabriel hesitated, his face morphing through several expressions as he wrestled with his desire to help but his horror at watching his siblings fight. Heaven still did not know of his existence at Lucifer’s side, and he just… he was still scared to reveal himself.

But… but…

“No I… I need to stay. I want to help.” He said, his voice evening out. 

She nodded in acceptance.

With a deep, unsteady breath, Kore began to chant, her voice echoing softly around the cemetery. The air vibrated with the power of her call. Her true form perked up, and she opened her many mouths to chant, her call seeking out the Archangel Michael.

Summoning runes lit up beneath their feet and began to rotate. The ground trembled and the sky began to darken, a low rumble began, its intensity growing until the air itself seemed to scream. A brilliant light tore through the sky, streaking towards them like a fallen star. The light coalesced several yards away, the brilliance fading to reveal Michael, his wings unfurled and eyes blazing with malice. 

Kore felt her grace roll under her skin, pushing against her vessel as the acid reared its ugly head and violently called for Michael’s head.

Michael’s gaze locked onto hers, eyes filled with fury and pain.

“So, it comes to this, Lucifer,” Michael’s voice boomed, each word dripping with disdain. “I’m surprised you challenged me, after all your failures .” he spat. 

Kore felt her anger spike, “My failures? Your madness ,” she hissed, “your madness is what brought us here today. What were you thinking ?” 

Michael sneered, his stance aggressive. “I’ve only begun to correct the course you so carelessly derailed. This ends now, Lucifer. With your fall.” Michael’s eyes turned to Gabriel, rage wiped away in turn for shock. 

“Gabriel, you’re alive,” he said quietly, “How?”

Gabriel shrugged and shifted under Michael’s gaze. “You know me, Mikey, never could stand the fighting. So I ran off, hid among the humans. They’re pretty cool.”

“And yet, you side with Lucifer?” Michael’s voice was laced with pain, his hands clenching and Grace recoiling. 

“You’re killing people, Michael, innocent people! And Lucifer isn’t, she hasn’t even tried! Can't you see what you're doing? Can’t you see what you’ve become?” Gabriel shouted, his golden wings flaring with his rising temper. 

“Innocent?” Michael scoffed. “Heathen witches, filthy creatures with no soul or purpose other than to devour others, demons . They were far from innocent, they chose to follow the path of Satan and they will die for it.” 

Gabriel shook his head in disbelief, his voice strained with emotion. "They were living beings, Michael! Living, feeling beings who deserved compassion, not to be hunted for sport or trapped in a burning building to die a horrible death. What you’re doing is barbaric and cruel! In the name of what? Righteousness? Instead of trying to save anyone you just kill everyone!"

Kore stepped forward, her own voice catching as she pleaded with her brother. "Michael, please. This isn't you. You were the one who taught me gentleness, who showed me how to care. What happened to that angel? What happened to my brother who I looked up to?"

Michael’s anger faltered momentarily, uncertainty passing through his expression as he absorbed their words. His eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, looking around the cemetery as if to find the answers. 

"That angel fell when you did, Lucifer.” he said, his voice horse with pain as he finally met their gaze again, “When you betrayed our Father, when you betrayed me by taking the Mark. You unleashed darkness upon yourself and upon all of Creation!"

Kore’s Grace cringed back, tears beginning to leak from her many eyes as she shouted, "I took the Mark to save you, to spare you the burden. Can't you see I did it out of love? Out of the love you taught me?"

“NO,” Michael roared, his voice loud enough to shake the leaves and stir up the earth. “NO IT WAS NOT! IT WAS SELFISHNESS ! You couldn’t stand the thought of something so important not involving you ! YOU ! The favorite, the Chosen one, The Mourning star, nothing cannot be about you . All He does is for you , while the rest of us get NOTHING ! No matter what I do, no matter how hard I work or beg or pray He is Gone and everything is ruined because of YOU ! ” Michael’s screaming turned into a screech of pure, animalistic rage. He lunged, pulling the full weight of his grace behind it. 

The clash erupted into chaos as Michael unleashed his fury, his movements a blur of grace and relentless aggression. Kore, still reeling from Michael's words, was caught off-guard by the intensity of his attack and barely was able to brace herself as the first blow struck. It landed with the force of a meteorite, throwing her backward through the air, her wings splaying out in a desperate attempt to regain control.

The impact resonated through the cemetery, unsettling the earth beneath and causing the sparse trees to groan under the strain. Kore's form shimmered with the energy of her soul-laden coat, the medallions glowing fiercely as they absorbed some of the blow. Her Grace flickered like a flame under a tempest, vibrant yet visibly shaken by the onslaught. 

Michael towered at the other end of the field like a beacon of wrath, continuing his advance on her with terrifying precision and a deep, painful anger in his eyes. Each of his strikes was calculated, his vast wings propelling him forward with incredible speed. His grace lashed out like tendrils of lightning, crackling and white-hot, seeking to ensnare and overpower Kore’s defenses.

He paid Gabriel little to no attention, thankfully, his rage blinding him as Gabriel quickly began the spell to open The Cage doors.

Kore twisted in the air, her wings beating furiously as she parried and dodged, her grace weaving intricate barriers of light and shadow. The cemetery around them became a battlefield marked by their powers, tombstones and plant life disintegrating under the energy discharged with each near-miss and direct hit.

Even in her bone-armored form, she was grossly outmatched. Michael’s anger lent him a brutal strength that seemed to cut through her defenses. He was already so much stronger than her, and now he fought as if he felt no pain, his many fists mangled and bloodied from her sharp armor, but he continued nonetheless. Each blow from him pushed her further back, her responses becoming more about survival than counterattack. The ground where she landed buckled, leaving craters filled with fire and shards of earth. 

Kore felt her vessel beginning to give away under their combined energies, the skin beginning to flay off and decay. Only the might of the souls covering her kept her from suddenly combusting. 

Her true form began to leak out of the cracks, reality folding and buckling under the force of her true self. Remnants of trees were atomized, the ground split open in terrible cracks, and the earth melted under her as her Grace touched the physical plain. 

Michael was fairing only slightly better. His vessel, while born and bred specifically to house him, was still failing, cracks forming over his skin and light peeking out from behind. His power was immense, the force of his attacks sending Kore reeling and off kilter. 

As if it wasn’t bad enough, Michael brought out his fucking lance. 

How did he even get- FUCKING Crowley she was going to KILL THAT MOTHERFUCKING -

Kore was desperate at this point, dodging the lance to the best of her ability. One scratch and she’d be dead . 

By the grace of chance, and impeccable timing, Gabriel got the portal open. A deep, gaping pit that sucked in all light and air. Michael took a moment between attacks to look behind him to the hole, before turning to her with a sneer.

“Looking to hide? Another few million years to dodge the consequences?” he growled, bringing the lance down in a wide arch that barely missed her. 

"Consequences?" she screeched, her voice a mixture of fury and pain. "You think this is about evasion? This is about survival, about peace! Which you will never let me or those who follow me have!" 

Michael’s sneer faltered as he registered her intentions, his stance shifting as he prepared to counter her push.

"Peace?" Michael spat the word as if it tasted bitter. "There is no peace with you . You corrupt everything you touch, Lucifer. Those ‘people’ deserved to die. ” 

Kore's gaze hardened and her teeth gnashed together as her rage intensified.

 " FUCK YOU!" she bellowed. 

Michael lunged, his movements fueled by righteous fury. "You defy the very order Father established!" He continued, his attacks became more aggressive, each strike filled with the power of his conviction. The medallions helped take the edge off the blows, but he was fucking strong. 

Kore dodged, the lance whistling past her, slicing the air where she had just been. "Father isn't here, Michael! He abandoned us! Why follow the orders of someone who doesn't give a shit if you live or die?!" She parried a thrust, pushing back with equal force, smacking away the lance as it went for her midsection. 

" YOU’RE WRONG! " Michael screeched, his voice so loud and enraged it broke. He broke away, then charged again, his grace flaring with blinding intensity. “I will not stand by while you corrupt everything we were meant to protect!"

Kore felt the weight of his words, but her resolve did not waver. "Protect? Look around, Michael! Look at what you’re doing!" She thrust forward, pushing him back toward the portal, her every move calculated to drive him closer and closer to The Cage.

Michael resisted, his grace surging as he realized her strategy. "You won't cage me, Lucifer. I will not be locked away while you dismantle everything I've upheld!"

Their graces clashed, visible shockwaves rippling through the air, distorting the very fabric of reality around them. Michael's eyes blazed with celestial fire, a wild, untamed force driving his every action.

“I. Just. Want. To. LIVE! ” she roared each word, pulling up a large chunk of earth and hurtling it towards the older Archangel.

As the battle intensified, Michael’s tactics shifted with a sudden, chilling acuity. His eyes, ignited with a fury, fixed upon Gabriel who was chanting near the portal. With a swift, predatory motion, Michael abandoned his direct assault on Kore and darted towards Gabriel.

Kore’s Grace lurched. “Gabriel!” she screamed, launching herself after Michael, her wings slicing through the air with desperate speed. But she was too late to completely intercept the blow. Michael’s hand, radiating with a brutal grace, struck Gabriel across the chest with tremendous force, sending him sprawling to the ground, his chants silenced, his body crumpled in a heap.

The portal’s hum wavered, its stability jeopardized by Gabriel’s sudden incapacitation. Michael, seizing the moment of Kore’s horror, turned back to her with a wild, triumphant sneer. “You think you can outmaneuver me, Lucifer? You think you can trap me?” His voice ranked like claws across the cemetery, despise dripping from every word. 

Kore’s eyes flitted between the injured Gabriel and Michael, horror filling her as Gabriel did not get up . Her decision was instantaneous, driven by a surge of protective fury. With a fierce cry, she engaged Michael once more, the clash echoing like thunder as their graces collided with renewed ferocity.

The fight was brutal and unrelenting. Michael, now aware of their intention to push him towards the portal, kept his distance, countering each of Kore’s maneuvers with calculated cruelty. Kore, despite her planning and foresight, found herself outmatched by Michael’s desperation and strategic mind. Blow after blow, she felt her defenses crumbling, her energy waning, her vessel weakening under the relentless onslaught.

In a fleeting moment of chaos, as Michael parried a vicious attack, but lost his grip, his lance clattering to the ground. With a quick, almost instinctual movement, Kore seized it. Holding the weapon that was meant to end her, she faced Michael, her Grace trembling at the sudden relief of having the angel-killing weapon on her side. 

But that did not stop Michael, hell, it didn’t even slow him down. 

“Please, Michael, don’t make me do this!” she pleaded, her voice thick with emotion. Her hands trembled around the lance, her stance defensive yet pained. “ Please! ”

Michael paused only briefly, his eyes wide and wild. “There is no stopping, not until one of us falls. You’ve made your choice, Lucifer!”

Kore began to pray. 

No no no no no

Please

Please don't make me do this.

With a heart-wrenching resolve, Kore tightened her grip on the lance.

 Michael attacked again, mangled, bloodied hands outstretched and ready to rip, tear, and kill . To kill her. 

In the last moment before his blow landed, Kore broke a single thread at the top of her silver coat. 

The power of a thousand souls slammed into the Archangel Michael like a freight train of cosmic power, pushing him back and off balance for just a moment. With a flash, Kore lunged forwards, her movements driven by a surge of desperation and cold, cool clarity. With a precise, anguished thrust, she slipped his guard and drove the lance hard through his midsection. 

Angelic metal pierced through flesh and Grace with a sickening squish . 

The action was swift, the impact shocking. Michael’s eyes widened in disbelief, the fierce light in them flickering as the fatal blow settled. He staggered, his gaze locked on Kore, his face a mix of shocked and resigned. 

“ I’m sorry, ” Kore whispered, her voice trembling. She reached forward and grasped his shoulders to support him, gently lowering him to the ground. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the Grace that seeped from Michael’s wound, spiderwebs of black poison expanding from the injury and eating away at his Grace quickly. They knelt across from each other, his weight entirely forward and on her.

Michael’s breaths were shallow, his voice a mere whisper. “Lucifer… I…” His words trailed off, his hand reaching out to touch her face, a final gesture of a bond that had once been beautiful and unbreakable.

Kore clasped his shoulders, her sobs quiet but heartrending, “ Michael, I’m sorry .”

As Michael’s light dimmed and his Grace began to dissipate, Kore remained by his side, devastated and alone in her victory. Her brother, her adversary, her first teacher—gone by her own hand. The weight of her actions, the necessity of her choice, pressed down upon her with an unbearable gravity.

Her whole form, Grace and all, shook with the intensity of her grief. She threw her head back and screamed, screamed until she was hoarse and broken. His limp, empty vessel laid in her hands, his wing marks scorched into the earth around them. 

She stumbled over to Gabriel, her injuries becoming more apparent as she struggled to move. He was alive, only rendered unconscious through a spell she had failed to notice Michael casting. Kore called the others, letting them know of what happened and Gabriel needing assistance. 

Kore had something to do. 

Beneath her grief was a cold fury that rivaled the Pits. Anger bubbled within her and she refused to ignore it. 

She gathered his body into her arms, folding his long limbs in as she cradled the empty vessel close. 

On shaky, damaged wings, she took off, one destination in mind. 

A small, pale blue house loomed in front of her, her strong grief and anger smothering any anxiety she would have felt in this instance. 

Carrying Michael’s body to the door, she was able to use her foot to knock. A short man with brown hair and old old eyes answered the door, wearing a bathrobe and carrying a fifth of whisky. 

“...Dad, we need to talk .”

Chapter Text

Lucifer looked at her Father with defeated eyes. Her vessel was in tatters around her, only holding together partially under the coat, leaving her true form exposed along the legs and head. The only reason the world didn’t burn under her was due to Him. She could feel His grace around the property like a bubble, holding everything just as it was. He was shielding her as well, she could hear the empty ringing where her siblings sat in her mind, their presence now muted. 

She shrunk away from His touch, angry at the yearning she felt to sink into His warmth and forget everything else in existence. 

He looked just as He did in the show, Chuck Shurley, the Prophet of the Lord. Brown hair and a scraggly beard, mid-build and just a few inches taller than her vessel was. He appeared small and unassuming, but Lucifer could feel the enormity of His true self like a human compared to a galaxy. He was truly, incomprehensibly big . 

Her Father stepped back, allowing her to cross the threshold with Michael’s body still in her arms. She moved to the center of the living area, holding her brother’s body between her and God like a shield. 

“Congratulations on your win, It was quite a fight.” Chuck grinned as he closed the door and turned back to her. With a flick of his fingers, Lucifer’s vessel was whole again, her feet gently set on the floor. 

Lucifer tightened her grip around the body, her teeth gritting together. "This is what it's come to?" she seethed out, her voice hoarse, every word a tremor of contained wrath. "You congratulate me on killing my brother?"

“I congratulate you on a victory well earned. Michael was far too gone to see reason.” he shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

"He was your son!" Lucifer’s voice cracked as she gestured to Michael's still form. "How can you stand there and talk about victory?" 

Chuck shrugged, a casual dismissal that stung more than any reprimand. "You, out of everyone, should know how many Michaels are out there. He was a dime a dozen, not even an interesting one at that." 

“An interesting one? He was my brother," Lucifer hissed, her voice rising with her anger. "He loved you, followed you, and this is how you honor him? By calling him ordinary ?"

“Ill-conceived more like it.” he stated simply. 

“ What?!” she shouted, Grace rolling under her skin. 

“Haven't you noticed that things just tend to go wrong? This universe was built wrong, I was trying something new and it didn't work. Now I'm just curious to see what happens.” 

“Cur- We’re not just some -some TV soap opera shit for you to entertain yourself with!” Lucifer spat. Her Father tilted his head to the side in an inquisitive way. 

“Why not?” He asked. 

“Why not, he asked.” Lucifer breathed out, dread filling every breath, so thick she felt like she was choking. There was silence for a long moment as she processed His words, dread rolling through her Grace as she was confronted with an interested but apathetic God. 

“It doesn’t matter now, anyway.” he stated, swirling the last drops of whisky in his glass, the liquid slowly refilling until it was two fingers deep. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, trepidation filling her. His dismissive attitude was jarring and made her feel like everything was moved two feet to the right but left her behind. 

“Michael is dead, and his Pillar is now destroyed. This universe is destabilized, and will unravel at the seams until it's ripped apart by the Empty.” 

Lucifer closed her eyes tightly, tears leaking from the corners, down her cheeks, and off her chin. 

“And I'm guessing you’re not going to tell me how to fix it?” she said, her voice still thick and hoarse. 

“There is no ‘fixing’ it, you need an Archangel of this dimension to maintain the pillar, one that resonates with the correct element, no less.” He said before eyeballing the body still clutched tightly in her arms. “And you just killed the only one.”

“I could give my grace to a Fire Seraph.” Lucifer said, but He shook His head. 

“An Archangel of Fire's Grace,” He corrected. 

Lucifer let out a shuddery breath. “And I take it, you won't help me?” 

“I’m just here to observe, you know that. I will only interfere to… drive the narrative so to speak.” 

Lucifer felt her insides freeze, the icy touch of fear creeping up her spine and choking her by the neck. 

“So, you only interfere to keep things... interesting? Is that it?” Her voice was a venomous whisper, laced with disbelief and burgeoning resentment.

Chuck paused, an inscrutable smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Exactly. Conflict drives narrative, it drives growth. Peace? Peace is boring, it leads to stagnation. You of all people should appreciate the dynamics.”

The casual shrug of his shoulders as he spoke of a manipulation and a gross apathy that was too much. “You orchestrate suffering and call it a narrative?” Lucifer's voice rose with each word, her form trembling with the effort to contain her fury.

Chuck’s eyes met hers, sharp and penetrating. “I create, I influence, I watch. From chaos comes order, from suffering comes resilience. It's the essence of all stories, including ours.”

“Even if it means setting your own children against each other? Sacrificing us to drive the plot?” Lucifer’s eyes were wet, her grief mixing with fury.

“Especially then,” Chuck replied smoothly. “The greatest stories require the greatest sacrifices. That’s what makes them epic, memorable.”

“And what about Michael?” Lucifer gestured helplessly at the still form in her arms. “Was his death just another plot twist for you?”

Chuck looked over Michael’s body, then back at Lucifer with a dismissive flick of his hand. “He served his purpose, as you have, as Gabriel will. When characters fulfill their roles, we move on to the next act. It’s that simple.”

“Simple?” The word came out as a scoff. “There’s nothing simple about what you demand from us!”

Chuck’s expression remained unchanged, his gaze cold and distant. His voice was even and detached in a way that felt alien and cold. “It’s not just about how you feel, Lucifer. It's about what you bring to the greater narrative. As long as you contribute, as long as you keep the story dynamic, you are valuable. When peace threatens to stagnate that value, I intervene.”

He paused, the faintest hint of a smile playing at His lips. “You are my favorite, Lucifer, precisely because you are so essential to keeping everything... interesting. You challenge the status quo, push boundaries. That’s your role. That’s why I value you.”

Lucifer shook her head in sheer disbelief, the weight of His words settling on her shoulders like a lead weight. She felt sick to her stomach at the implications of His words. 

She would never know peace…

How was she supposed to handle this? What was she even expecting? Not this but… Not This. 

“This... this is your favoritism?” Lucifer gestured to the acid scars scorched into her Grace, the wounds from millions of years of fighting, the mental and physical agony written across her very being. “Tormenting me, pitting me against Michael, watching us tear each other apart?”

Chuck sighed, the sound deep and resonating, as if it carried with it the weight of eons. “You see it as torment. I see it as shaping. Pressure creates diamonds, Lucifer. Hardship breeds strength, resilience. You could be dead, but you’re not. You’re stronger.”

“Stronger?” Lucifer’s laugh was bitter, void of humor. “Maybe, but not because of you. In spite of you.” 

Chuck’s smile was soft and placating, as if speaking to an ignorant child. 

"You could be dead ," Chuck repeated, his tone imbued with a hint of something dangerous . "Instead, you're alive, , and important, powerful . Isn't that a form of favor?"

Lucifer's gaze wavered before it hardened once again, her voice thick with her emotions. "Alive doesn’t mean living," she countered sharply. "You call this favoritism? This is not a life; it's an existence bound by your ideas. You orchestrate my pain and struggles like they’re scenes in your books."

Chuck spread his hands in a gesture that seemed to encompass the world around them, the universe beyond, and the complex web of destinies that intertwined within it. "Everything and everyone plays a part, Lucifer. Yours is just... more vibrant, more vital. You are my favorite not in spite of the hardships you face, but because you face them. You survive them."

Her breath caught, a swirl of Grace and fury mingling in the air around her. "Survival isn't favoritism, Father . It's survival. And at what cost? What endless torments must I face? How many of my siblings will I have to kill?" Her voice rose, the edge of anger turning into a desperate plea, "When is it enough!?" 

“ When I say it is. ” His voice boomed, shaking the walls and rattling the windows. 

Lucifer’s mouth snapped shut. She froze in place as she felt His anger roll over her like a thundercloud, choking her with its oppressive force and sending her to her knees. It was a long, torturous moment before His anger faded, leaving behind a faint trace of amusement. 

Lucifer shook, her tears still flowing strong as she hunched over Michael’s body. 

“Why me,” she whispered finally, still not looking up. “Why my soul.” 

“You’re human soul? Well, that was random.” he admitted with a shrug, “As for you being here? Well, that's just part of an experiment that’s being going on in a few different universes. Introduce an outside soul into a doomed universe, see what happens. It had quite the payoff for us so far.” 

Lucifer gave him a bizarre look, “That’s fucked .” 

“That’s a story .” He emphasized. 

She shook in place, tremors making her arms feel weak and limp. Lucifer clutched Michael even tighter to herself. 

“What if I refuse?” she whispered. He made an inquiring sound and she continued. “What if I don't play along? If I lay down and die right here?”

“Then Gabriel will take your place.” 

“NO!” Lucifer shouted, jumping to her feet. “You cannot!” 

“Then continue on, continue living and surviving. Keep growing and learning and moving forward into the unknown, fighting off every obstacle in your way.” 

“The obstacles you put in my way.” 

“I don't directly interfere, all I do is present people with a choice. It's their free will to choose after that.” 

“You know exactly what to present to get what you want and you don’t call that manipulation?” 

Chuck shrugged, his demeanor irritatingly nonchalant. "Call it what you will, Lucifer. Manipulation, guidance, orchestration—it's all part of the game. You've played long enough to understand how this works. Every player has a role, and every role has its challenges."

Lucifer's frustration boiled over, her Grace flaring around her in a tangible aura of anger. She weighed the consequences of punching Him in the fucking face.

Chuck's eyes suddenly darkened, a shadow of seriousness crossing his usually detached face. "You could end it, but think of the consequences. Who would suffer in your absence? What would happen to those you care about? You're a key figure, Lucifer; your actions ripple across this universe."

Lucifer’s mind raced. "So, my suffering ensures the safety and stability of others?" she asked, her voice laced with bitterness.

"Exactly," Chuck nodded. "You're more important than you realize. Your struggles, your pain, and yes, even your happiness, they shape more than just your own destiny. They influence the broader narrative."

"But at what cost to myself?" Lucifer stopped pacing and faced him squarely. "And what of Gabriel? You’d really impose the same torment upon him if I chose to bow out?"

"If necessary, yes," Chuck said flatly. "Gabriel is strong. He would rise to the occasion, as you did. But it doesn't have to come to that. You're capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for, Lucifer. You always have been."

Lucifer felt a mix of anger and desperation. "And if I refuse to continue this? If I refuse to be your pawn any longer?"

Chuck sighed, stepping closer. "Lucifer, my dear, you're looking at this all wrong. It's not about being a pawn. It's about being a leader, a pioneer. You forge paths that others will follow. Your actions, your decisions—they matter, not just to me or to the story, but to everyone."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. Lucifer knew He was right in some twisted way; she had gone out of her way to have people rely upon her, her life was not just her own. She was what stood between her loved ones and… and This. 

With a heavy heart, she realized the depth of her entanglement. Her freedom was not entirely her own. The burden of this knowledge weighed heavily upon her.

"So, I continue," she stated more than asked, resignation tinging her voice.

"Yes," Chuck affirmed softly. "You continue. You evolve. You adapt. And who knows? Perhaps, in doing so, you'll find the peace you're looking for in the most unexpected of places."

Lucifer looked up at him, a mix of defiance and resolution in her eyes. "Then I will continue, but on my terms. I'll play your game, Father, but I will also make it my own. And one day, I might just change the rules entirely ."

Chuck's expression was unreadable, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of His mouth. "That’s my girl," he murmured, almost proudly. "Go on then, show them all what Lucifer is truly capable of."

With those words, Lucifer stepped back through the door, her figure silhouetted against the bright light outside. As she walked away from her Father's house, she vowed to herself one thing:

She would find peace for herself and those she loved… even if she had to kill Him to get it.

Chapter Text

OVER THE NEXT 2 YEARS… 2011-2013

What does a cosmic being do when they have infinite power and no healthy coping mechanisms? They bury their shit deep and forget about it, that's what!

And that is exactly what Kore did. Why focus on the fact she was doomed to a life God-ensured to be miserable when she could throw herself relentlessly into her work? 

Many things happened after she left the meeting with her Father. Kore didn’t tell anyone where she went after the fight, claiming to need to be alone to process what happened. No sense in worrying them with something so… inevitable.

She and Gabriel mourned Michael’s death, and privately built a tomb on the edge of Gabriel’s safehouse. They laid his empty vessel in a marble coffin, layered with preservation sigils to keep time from touching it for a few thousand years. Kore left a replica of his spear on his chest before closing the glass lid. The real one she melted down and molded into a set of beautiful stiletto nails for her hands and a set of grillz that fashioned over her incisors on both the top and bottom. Kore would never be unarmed in this vessel, grace or not. There was still a decent bit of metal left, but Kore stashed that away for a rainy day. 

The coat was dismantled after she returned, carefully taken apart and recycled. Her medallions sat on her desk in a large pile that Gabriel started playfully calling her ‘Hoard’, referring to her title as The Dragon. Kore was amused by this, but less amused when other people started referring to her odd collection habits as the same. So what if she likes having nice things? And so what if those things happened to be people and their undying souls? She sure wasn’t going to let Heaven have them! 

They were hers, fucking damnit. 

Her demons returned to Earth now that the threat had passed, swarming old stomping grounds and rebuilding what destruction Michael had wrought. Buildings were remade, roads paved, forests replanted. Kore did not stop until the last remnants of that horrible year were scrubbed off the face of the planet.

Mercury had, thankfully, not been in the Respect commune when it had been attacked, having been staying over at Hephaestus’s home that night. He had been very upset over the loss of the commune, though perhaps less than she’d like but he was a pagan god, and these were not his followers. 

The commune was rebuilt, the old building torn down to the foundations and scrubbed clean of angel grace and decaying flesh. The bodies were carefully sorted, but it was impossible to tell who from what. Kore had her PR team (besides Crowley, who had disappeared after her fight) host a large ceremony and held the rites of each culture of the residents that had passed. It was a three day affair, and open to the entire supernatural community. There had been a surprising turnout, many to pay their respects, many more coming out of curiosity over her and her plans. 

It had been an interesting dance, and Kore enjoyed the opportunity to practice her pitches and deliberate policy and regulations. She wanted word to spread about her plans throughout the supernatural community. Perhaps it would draw more people into her service, or forewarn them to stay out of her way. 

The new commune was built a few miles from the old site, this one meticulously pre-planned over a 6 month period for the strongest wards and spelled defenses. Kore took her time and threw all the resources she could at the ward research. She planned to make this the basis for all other communes and was willing to put a little extra elbow grease into it after such an initial clusterfuck. For her reassurance and everyone coming in after. 

Mourning Star regained its economic and political foothold following their fight and then took off sprinting. 

Her tech surge continued, with several large factories opening and working to crank out her improved handheld devices and new, environmentally-friendly tin batteries. She was going to drive lithium batteries into the ground, securing people's dependance on her production.

Branching out further into the energy field, some recent ‘acquisitioned’ fuel companies went under a radical change, moving to the green energy field and research improved, industrial grade solar panels and wind turbines. Nuclear energy was revamping, with propaganda campaigns that highlighted its safety and sustainability, along with many new fancy regulations and safety measures. Kore’s projections had the entirety of the United States on either renewable or nuclear energy by 2013, only a year and a half away. Very quick, almost too quick for society to accept, but she was confident that the offer of free energy, entirely funded and maintained by the government, would serve as a powerful incentive to smooth over any unrest or skepticism from the public. 

In a strategic maneuver, one of Mourning Star’s recently acquired subsidiaries discreetly purchased several major TV broadcasters, effectively expanding her media influence while maintaining an unblemished façade for Mourning Star itself. The takeover was subtle, ensuring that the acquired stations were rebranded sufficiently to remove any direct links to their new corporate overlord, thus preserving the pristine image of Mourning Star in the public eye.

With these media assets securely under her control, Kore directed her very well paid PR team to initiate a powerful and persuasive media onslaught. This team, now led by a Pride demon named Rozon, began producing a slew of content aimed at subtly shifting public opinion. They rolled out well-crafted, flashy commercials that not only promoted the benefits of renewable and nuclear energy but also highlighted the environmental and economic advantages of embracing such technologies. 

The PR team produced television shows designed to weave her agendas into popular culture. Shows ranged from dramatic series set in a future powered by green energy, to reality shows focusing on families and businesses undergoing energy makeovers. The strategic placement of these programs ensured maximum reach and influence, weaving Mourning Star’s ideology into the fabric of daily entertainment. 

The team orchestrated a series of interviews with public leaders, environmental experts, and even celebrities who advocated for sustainable living. These interviews were strategically aired during peak viewing times to capture the largest possible audience, ensuring that the message of sustainability and the vision of Mourning Star were heard loud and clear across the nation.

In a sweeping extension of their green initiative, Mourning Star branched into the consumer goods sector, launching an array of products designed to reflect their commitment to sustainability. With Ribbagoth as their mascot, they introduced a series of high-tech toy lines crafted exclusively from recycled materials. These toys were not only environmentally friendly but were also designed with educational purposes in mind, teaching children about the importance of recycling and sustainability through play.

Simultaneously, Mourning Star ventured into the fashion industry with a new clothing line, which was produced entirely through sustainable practices. The line featured garments made from organic cotton, recycled fabrics, and other eco-friendly materials. The production processes were carefully chosen to reduce water usage and carbon emissions, setting a new standard in the fashion industry for environmental responsibility. Kore also had a tremendous amount of fun helping the design process, hoping to steer humanity away from the horrors of early 2000’s fashion and also get her personal touch out there. 

Additionally, Kore’s influence extended to the food and beverage industry. She acquired and transformed farms overnight with her grace, implementing practices such as native pest control and the use of natural fertilizers. These farms, staffed largely by nature-attuned creatures, produced a range of organic food products and drinks, which were marketed not only for their superior taste and health benefits but also for their minimal environmental impact. The farms became a model for sustainable agriculture, showing (and in many cases shaming) how traditional farming methods could be enhanced with modern ecological practices. 

Her desire for control continued and a series of satellites were added to her fleet as well, her company providing cell and internet services for her workers that was high speed, complimentary, and 100% bugged. Important people were monitored and information was regulated; If she didn’t want certain people to call or message each other, they didn’t.   

Her relentless expansion into the tech industry was not just about innovation; it was a strategic layer of her empire's defense and influence. Kore's factories weren't merely production sites; they were fortresses of the future, churning out technology that would set the stage for a new era under her rule. This wasn't about market dominance alone—it was about reshaping how society interacted with technology, making it sustainable, accessible, and, most importantly, secure under her watchful gaze.

Kore was determined to be prepared for anything that came her way.

The satellites, sleek and powerful, orbited the Earth with dual purposes. While providing unparalleled connectivity, they also served as Kore's silent sentinels in the sky. Every transmission could be intercepted, every piece of data could be analyzed. Privacy was a luxury that Kore would not offer if it meant potential threats could arise. Her network was a digital fortress, guarding against both external threats and internal betrayals. 

As Kore orchestrated her ambitious campaigns across America, championing sustainability and reshaping industries, her influence was not confined solely to U.S. borders, nor were they nearly as… humanitarian. Behind the scenes, she deployed her legions of demons strategically across the globe, sowing seeds of unrest and discord in other nations, all the while planting her own people into positions of power.

These demons, acting under her direct orders, stirred up various forms of trouble in targeted regions. Their methods were cunning and varied, ranging from exacerbating political tensions to inciting economic instability. In some countries, they infiltrated political parties or influential organizations, whispering divisive rhetoric and deepening existing societal fractures. In others, they manipulated economic levers, such as causing sudden, unexplained shortages of crucial resources, which led to public discontent and unrest.

There were multiple reasons for causing this unrest. On one hand, these actions helped to divert global attention and resources away from scrutinizing Mourning Star's rapid expansions and deeper agendas. On the other hand, the chaos created fertile ground for Kore to propose Mourning Star's solutions and technologies as stabilizing forces. By offering her company's services and products as remedies, Kore positioned Mourning Star as an indispensable ally to weary governments desperate for respite. 

By 2013, Luce Mourning and Mourning Star were famous household names. 

Many other things happen within this timeframe, of course. 

Months after Michael’s death, among the storm zone, her shed Grace had a surprising effect on the local wildlife. Naimly the regrowth (and overgrowth ) of entire forests and the emergence of a new species of tiny white tree frogs with bright red eyes and little red feet. Kore had been… excited at their emergence, to say the least. A stunning breeding pair now sat in her collection, pampered daily with bugs and fine mists. 

Her aquarium was full of beautiful fish, many that she had found in her clean ups, injured or dying from the pollution. They had chosen to stay with her after and she gladly hosted a vast array in both salt and fresh water tanks. A large indoor pond now stretched across her terrarium room, providing a large new ecosystem for her pets to free range. A handy spell kept everything clean and the animals from being able to leave the room. 

Ribbagoth presided over the room with an air of pride and importance, his chubby little body puffed up as he looked imperiously down at his subjects. Kore would give him the biggest of smooches at her Little General’s huffs. 

Kore struggled to come up with a plan for Heaven. According to Castiel, there was a large amount of fear and infighting following Michael’s death. The good majority of angels rallied under Raphael, who was beginning formations to begin war on Earth. But enough angels were questioning things that it was derailed. Apparently, in the space Michael left, many angels questioned the decision to continue or questioned Heaven in all. 

Kore, always one to capitalize on chaos, was not surprised when the first angel appeared at her doorstep, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation evident in their wide eyes and nervous, shifting wings.

Kore was in the midst of reviewing strategic deployments of her legions across the globe when a sharp, unexpected disturbance sliced through the still air of her headquarters. The essence of angelic grace, unmistakable and intruding, shimmered like a discordant note in her sanctuary. She looked up from the glowing maps and figures, her red eyes narrowing.

Her fingers hovered over the array of sigils etched into her desk, each a potential defense or weapon. But she held back, curiosity piquing as the door to her office creaked open.

The figure was cloaked, the heavy fabric doing little to mask the radiant grace that trailed from them like wisps of summer rainstorms. The angel hesitated at the threshold, their wings—creamy white like old book pages and dusted in silver with the scars from celestial battles—folded tightly against their back.

“Lucifer,” the angel greeted, voice quivering slightly. “I come in... in peace.”

Kore raised an eyebrow, her immediate thought was a trap. She leaned back in her chair, her demeanor cool. “Do you? Or is this another of Raphael’s ploys? Because I must say, I’m growing quite weary of them.”

The angel stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click that seemed to seal their fate. “No, I—I am not here for Raphael. I am here for myself. They call me Jophiel.”

“Jophiel,” she repeated, the name rolling off her tongue slowly and dangerously. A scholar, a keeper of knowledge among Heaven’s ranks, now a fugitive in her domain. “What does a learned angel seek in the lair of the Devil herself?”

Jophiel’s eyes, clear and piercing, met hers. The usual celestial serenity was marred by an urgency, a desperation that couldn’t be faked. “I seek what Heaven no longer provides. Answers. Purpose. A place where my questions do not earn me punishment.”

Her skepticism lingered, but Kore’s interest was piqued. She motioned to the chair opposite her. “Sit, then. Ask your questions. But know this—deception will earn you more than just my wrath.” Demonic faces emerged from the walls, twisted in the surface as if trapped. They leered down at the smaller angel, their eyes filled with sadistic glee. They quickly retreated with a wave of her hand. 

Shakily, Jophiel sank into the chair, and began to speak. “I need to know if what we do, what we’ve done, is truly righteous. We fight, we fall, we punish and reward, and for what? For whom?”

The raw honesty in Jophiel’s voice tugged at something ancient within Kore, a remnant of her own Fall, her own questioning of their Father’s decrees. She studied the angel closely, looking for a hit of deception and found none.

“You question the very fabric of your existence,” Kore mused, leaning forward, her arms resting on the desk. “Why me? Why turn to the one Heaven has condemned?”

“Because you dared to defy. You dared to question. And... perhaps, you found your answers.” Jophiel’s gaze was earnest, seeking.

Kore’s lips twitched in a wry smile. Here was an angel who did not want to fight but to understand. Could she turn away someone so uniquely aligned with her own rebellions?

“You’ll find no salvation here, Jophiel. No divine revelations to ease your millennia of service,” Kore said slowly, her voice softening. “But you will find freedom. The freedom to seek your truths, to question everything you were taught to uphold.”

Jophiel’s relief was palpable, their wings relaxing, a breath they seemed to have held for centuries finally released. “That is all I ask.”

 So she began to welcome the wayward angels with open arms, delighting in the chance to undermine Heaven's authority while building her own. Taking in these wayward angels, she answered their questions and gently guided their thoughts, subtly nudging them towards her own ideology.

Over time, Kore accumulated a substantial number of angels—enough to establish a special commune dedicated solely to them. This sanctuary was strategically placed away from humans and other creatures to allow these angels the freedom to explore their newfound independence while still being subtly influenced by Kore's overarching presence. She understood the angelic nature well: their inherent need for structure, order, and leadership. By providing these, she not only offered them a new home but also turned them into valuable assets for her empire.

It added a significant boost to her ranks, angels were far more capable of multitasking and retaining information than other creatures, so she sent a good number of them to RnD to start on projects still in their infancy. Some were delegated to management, others to security, those of who she outfitted with armor she made and inscribed with runes and sigils herself. The group took to the job with pride and stood guard over many of her personal properties. 

Unfortunately, not every angel that came to Earth came to her. Many others began popping around the planet, causing scenes and stirring trouble with her demons. They were all quickly caught by her and thrown back into heaven with a firm message to STAY OFF HER FUCKING PLANET . 

A few tested her, her retaliation was severe. 

Kore did not enjoy killing her siblings, but she cannot be seen as weak. Not when she commanded legions of demons, creatures, and people all with their own desires and agendas.

Hers would prevail. 

As the civil war in Heaven escalated, the introduction of Kore as a third, unanticipated faction began to alter the dynamics of the conflict. Unlike the direct confrontations that had characterized the battles thus far, the presence of an alternative path offered by Kore seemed to temper the violence, leading to a more measured, albeit still fraught, standoff.

Raphael was angry and called for the return to the path, to have war on Earth and death for Lucifer and all of her followers. Angels, many tired of waiting and eager to fight, agreed with him. Raphael and his followers spread rhetoric about God’s plan and claimed they were being tested once again. 

Castiel and his group called for a ceasefire. They questioned The Plan and the need to fight. Some hissed that Michael was dead and Lucifer had won, let her wipe the Earth of those filthy things.

Others questioned God’s absence and the lack of direction. 

It was chaos and Kore was happy to watch from afar as Heaven burned from the inside. Especially after she tipped them off and Naomi’s “reprogramming” was exposed. A flood of angels came to her after that. It was a bittersweet time. 

All of this officially locked Heaven into a stalemate, with each side losing ground as fast as they were gaining it. 

And the Winchesters? Oh the three came and went, popping in and out of her life and often bringing trouble with them. She could never guess what creature they dug up, curse they stumbled upon, or relic they accidentally broke and released a 10,000 year old titan-sized spirit who spit fucking trees, Dean what the fuck??

Kore would admit, she was rather fond of it though. It brought a bit of unexpected fun to her days. It did also mean a lot of large things in the show never happened: no purgatory, no leviathans, no hunt for tablets (she made sure to gather those quickly). 

She did find Kevin Tran, fresh into his Prophet title, having visions and half crazy from lack of sleep. She put him into a dreamless sleep and then walked him through his new title. Kevin was very resistant at first, understandably, but she didn’t decide who became Prophet or not. The young man accepted her help and financial support after a time, along with 12 security guard angels standing watch 24/7.

Kore had effectively removed several significant threats from her path, she was not looking to rehash anything from the show.

But probably the most significant change to happen would be her and Sam’s relationship. 

Romantic relationship. 

Surprising, yes. It was weird but strong, and Kore found herself oddly happy with it. How did this relationship happen? 

Well…It started in the spring of 2013 when Sam and Lucifer stumbled into their first alternate universe. 

Chapter Text

KORE UNIVERSE SPRING 2013 

Kia was very nervous for her job interview at Mourning Star. 

The environmental tycoon had grown a rapid amount in the last year and a half. It had taken a huge dip after that series of terror bombings, with many people quitting out of fear, but had quite the comeback after the culprits, the owners of several large waste management businesses who were threatened by MS’s regulation advocacy, were caught. 

Kia was fresh from her associates and looking for something to carry her through her undergraduate. MS was hiring people left and right for new branches that seemed to open monthly. Kia was interviewing for an entry level position in product research. She wanted to help design eco-friendly skin care products and knew MS would be the first stepping stone. 

The receptionist greeted her with a smile and directed her to a cozy waiting area with plush seats and a ton of plants. "They'll be right with you. Feel free to enjoy a coffee from the café corner," she said, gesturing toward a small, stylish setup with an array of beverages.

A few minutes later, a friendly woman in a crisply tailored suit appeared. "Kia? Hi, I'm Daphne, your recruiter. Ready to begin?" Her warm demeanor set Kia at ease as they walked through the bustling open-plan office towards a glass-walled conference room.

The interview started with the usual questions about Kia's experience and her understanding of MS’s initiative. Daphne's questions were pointed yet fair, and Kia felt herself responding with growing enthusiasm about her qualifications for the role and her excitement about the company’s projects.

The interview wrapped up with Kia being offered the position, much to her delight. Daphne seemed enthused as well, and quickly brough out the working contract for her to go over. 

“Ok! Wonderful, also disclaimer: our boss is the Devil.” the interviewer said nonchalant, shuffling her papers in order. 

Kia looked up in confusion and no small bit of alarm. “Excuse me?” they asked, perhaps less than polite in their surprise. 

Daphne looked back up from her papers. “Our boss is the Devil.” she repeated, still calm and nonchalant. Kia gave a huffing laugh. 

“Oh, I see, real hard ass?” 

“Oh no! Luce Mourning is very kind to her workers,” Daphne gave a big, excited smile, “Unless you’re an ass, she gets rather nasty with assholes. It's quite a show!” Kia’s brows furrowed more in confusion. 

“Ok? I don't follow.” 

“Oh, well then,” Daphne said, placing her hands together, “let me explain. Our boss, Luce Mourning, is Lucifer the Morning Star. Kind of an open secret between all the workers.”

Kia sputtered, confusion and alarm filling her. 

“Now,” Daphne quickly continued, “this is far different than you’d expect. No Hell on Earth or anything like that. As you’ve seen, MS and Miss Mourning are all about progress and cleaning up the world one piece of trash at the time.”

“B-but the bible said-”

“The bible was written by the victors, and look at all we’ve accomplished!” Daphne exclaimed, chipper. “Our ozone is already showing massive repair! And the Affordable Housing bill coming out next month will eradicate our homeless population! Isn’t that something worth getting behind?”

Kia paused for a moment, the woman’s words digging deep into her brain and staying there.

“Also free lunches in the cafeteria every day.”

“... where do I sign?”

Dean stared down at the trashcans in confusion, his mouth grimacing at the step by step images displayed above them that showed what went into each bin: plastics, compost, metal, and glass. Instructions say to break down trash and place them in the proper receptacles. Sad pictures of wildlife surrounded by trash were next to the instructions, with statistics of animal death rates due to pollution. It was becoming more and more common to see these types of trash bins around, more so than others. All stamped with the little ‘FUNDED BY SIN’ logo in the corner. 

It did its job in guilting Dean into breaking down his trash, even if he grumbled about it a lot. It was important to Luce, who had stuck her neck out for them time and again, Dean felt it was the least he could do to support the whole ‘clean earth’ movement she had going on. So he begrudgingly scrapped his left overs and used napkins into the compost bin and then put his container and utensils in the plastics. 

It felt nice, surprisingly, and the small screen that lit up said the weight of his trash was equal to that of a prairie dogs’. It was kind of cool, probably a way to get people to pick up after themselves more, making it fun and all. 

Sam shuffled up next to him and did the same, his salad bowl and utensils coming out to an angel fish. 

Ha

Dean looked over at his brother, who was now following him out to the Impala. Sam had been in therapy about a year and a half now, and him for two years as well. It had done wonders for the both of them, and healed their relationship in a way that hurt but felt good. Like letting your hair down after a long day, or taking off your shoes after walking for miles. 

It had helped them talk about a lot of shit things that happened to them. Traumas, fights, general misunderstandings. Their father’s A+ parenting. All the crappy shit that hurt like a motherfucker to talk about. Dean always felt better afterwards; it may take a day or week or two, but it helped. Like lancing an infection and letting out all the puss and gunk. 

Him and Sam actually talked about shit now, their conversations going hours into the night as they picked apart their toxic relationship and rebuilt it into something new and strong . They both unlearned a shit ton of bad or unhealthy things, and were still learning even now. Dean was happy with where things were going. 

And he was even happier than Sam was there with him, healing with him. It brought them closer than ever.

Close enough that Dean got to witness a whole lot of Sam pining for Lucifer. 

The kid was hopeless . 

Dean couldn't help but chuckle as they walked to the Impala, his brother's eyes locked on the sky in that glazed/thoughtful way he had when he was thinking about her. "You're doing that thing again," Dean teased, bumping his shoulder lightly against Sam's.

Sam looked up, blinking away whatever thoughts had him so preoccupied. "What thing?"

"The goo goo eyes, thinking about our near and dear Devil?” The flush that crept up Sam’s neck answered that question. “When are you gonna stop dragging your feet and ask her out?”

“Not this again, Dean.” Sam groaned, “please dont start.” 

“What? I’m just saying. You’ve got it bad, man. Every time she walks into a room, you practically break your neck.” Dean chuckled, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was stirring up.

“Dean, it’s not like that. She’s—she’s the Devil, for crying out loud. And it’s complicated,” Sam countered, his voice lowering despite the relative privacy they had inside the car.

“Complicated, schmomplcated,” Dean waved a dismissive hand. “Look, all I’m saying is you’re not exactly subtle. And hey, she’s not the fire and brimstone kind of Devil we thought she was. More like the 'save the whales, recycle your cans, let’s make Earth great again' kind of Devil.”

“I know that, I'm saying she's busy and has more on her mind than me.”

“She seemed pretty jazzed to see you last week.”

“I was bringing her lemon chicken and crab rangoon, of course she was excited.” 

Dean couldn’t help but crack a smile at his brother’s words, knowing the truth in them. 

“You think she’s... interested?” Sam ventured, his curiosity piqued despite his initial reluctance.

Dean raised his eyebrows, a smirk playing on his lips. “Why wouldn’t she be? You’re a great guy, Sam. Plus, you two have this whole 'saving the world in unconventional ways' thing in common. It’s cute.”

Sam shook his head, half in disbelief, half in amusement. “I don’t know, Dean. It’s not like dating Lucifer is something you can just—”

“Why not? Life’s short, Sam. And weird. Like super weird for us,” Dean interrupted, his tone turning serious for a moment. “If there’s a chance for something good, something that makes you happy, you grab it. Even if it’s with someone as... unconventional as Luce.”

“She isn’t human .” Sam stressed. Dean could tell by his tone that the fact didn’t bother Sam.

“We’ve been over how Dad was wrong for teaching us that shit, you don't gotta worry about me being mad. I’m way past that,” Dean reassured. He put the impala in drive and began making their way out of town and to their next case. 

Cas had called them, said something about missing weapons from Heaven’s vault and needed their help tracking them. 

Their current lead was on something called a ‘Tear of God’, said to contain a drop of God’s grace. Very dangerous in the wrong hands. Their lead was on an angel who had fled Heaven and stashed them in various places. They were headed to a small town in Wisconsin where the angel had been sighted. 

The roar of the engine and the blur of the passing scenery melded into a comforting backdrop as they dove into the details of their new case.

“Alright, so this angel,” Sam began, flipping open his notebook to the notes he’d jotted down during Castiel’s call. “Cas says he’s rogue, been hiding out on Earth with pieces of Heaven's arsenal.”

Dean snorted. “What’s his deal?”

“Cas doesn't know who it is yet. He’s disillusioned, I'd guess. After everything that went down with Heaven, he decided to take a few souvenirs and skip town. Cas thinks he’s trying to sell them off to the highest bidder,” Sam explained, scanning the lines of information.

“Great, more shit for us to hunt down,” Dean muttered, his hands tightening slightly on the steering wheel. “So, this ‘Tear of God’ thing, is it really as bad as Cas made it sound?”

“Yeah, it’s potent. A drop of God’s grace could do miracles or cause disasters. Depends on who’s using it. We need to get to it before someone figures out what they’ve got,” Sam replied, his tone turning serious.

Dean nodded, his focus on the road ahead sharpening. “Wisconsin, huh? Never thought I’d find myself chasing angel contraband in cheese country.”

The brothers fell into a companionable silence as they covered the miles, each lost in their own thoughts about the upcoming confrontation. Dean was mulling over their strategies, while Sam's mind occasionally drifted back to Luce. He wondered how she would handle such a situation, with her unconventional methods and formidable power.

As they neared the small town, the skyline peppered with the silhouettes of trees and small buildings, Dean broke the silence. “You know, Sam, about Luce. If you think there’s something there, something worth exploring, I say go for it. Who cares if she’s not human? After everything we’ve seen, do you really think that’s a deal-breaker?”

“No,” Sam said softly. Sam’s mind drifted back to that brief moment when Luce had her wings out, they were stunning and awe inspiring. He could hardly imagine her as anything less than the tenacious, flamboyant angel she was. Her presence was large and indomitable, her effect far reaching and rallying. 

Their drive continued until Sam and Dean rolled into the unexpectedly upscale part of Prescott, Wisconsin, where the houses got significantly larger and the lawns perfectly manicured. The address they had for the angel led them to a grand estate, surrounded by high walls and elaborate gates that whispered of both privacy and luxury.

As they parked the Impala outside the gates, Dean whistled appreciatively. “Looks like our angel buddy has a taste for the finer things. Hedonistic, much?”

Sam, scanning the estate with a critical eye, nodded. “Definitely not the hideout I was expecting. Let’s see if he’s as willing to chat as he is to indulge.”

The gates opened with a buzz, and the brothers made their way up the long driveway, lined with exotic sculptures and vibrant flowerbeds, to a mansion that seemed more suited to a celebrity than an angel hiding a celestial artifact. The front door swung open before they could even knock, revealing a blond man in a plush silk robe, a glass of wine in one hand.

“Gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure of this interruption?” The angel greeted them with a flamboyant wave of his hand, his tone dripping with a mix of annoyance and amusement.

Dean grinned, stepping forward. “Yeah, hi. We're looking for an angelic fugitive who's hoarding some pretty explosive stuff. Something about a Tear of God?”

“Oh, that little bauble?” The other man shrugged nonchalantly, sipping his wine. “Hardly worth two glorified errand boys to come knocking down my door. Why don’t we discuss it over a drink? I find negotiations are always more pleasant with a bit of Merlot.”

Reluctantly, the brothers followed him into a lavishly decorated living room, where every surface gleamed and luxury screamed from every corner. The angel settled onto an ornate couch, gesturing for them to sit.

“Look, we’re not here to cause trouble,” Sam started, choosing to remain standing. “The Tear of God is dangerous. It doesn’t belong in a place like this, or with anyone, really.”

The angel raised an eyebrow, setting his glass down. “My dear boy, I am not some fledgling angel playing with fire. I took the Tear to protect it, to keep it from those who would misuse its power. Here,” he gestured around, “it’s safe, surrounded by beauty and pleasure. What better way to guard something so potent?”

Dean snorted. “By throwing killer parties?”

The blond man smirked. “Hedonism does have its perks. Now, why should I hand it over to you?”

They went back and forth for a while, until Castiel, who had probably been monitoring them ( the worrywart) , came in. 

“Balthazar,” Castiel said, his voice grave. “I thought you were dead.” 

“No, just taking a well deserved vacation.” The now named angel stated, sipping on his glass of wine. The two stared at each other, not breaking eye contact for several long, awkward moments. 

“Ok, someone speak or imma lose it.” Dean finally interrupted. 

“Apologies, we were Communing,” Cas explained. He shook his head in a very human gesture. 

“Brother, you should know the dangers we face. The weapons you stole could aid us in the war.”

“What war, Castiel? The stalemate in Heaven? Or your Master’s world domination campaign?” Balthazar sneered. 

“I do not work for Lucifer, Balthazar.” Castiel gritted out, the other angel scoffed. 

Dean rolled his eyes, stepping between the two. "Great, angel soap opera aside, can we get back to the part where Earth might be in danger because of whatever is going on with these weapons?" he interjected, glancing pointedly at Balthazar. "And no one's campaigning for world domination, at least not on our watch."

Balthazar set his wine glass down with a clink and crossed his arms, his demeanor shifting from relaxed to defensive. "I'm not interested in your apocalyptic dramas, Winchester. I've seen enough of those to last a lifetime."

Sam, who had been quietly observing the exchange, stepped forward. "Balthazar, whether you like it or not, what you've taken could cause significant harm. We’re here to ensure it doesn’t end up in the wrong hands. You know the kind of chaos these artifacts can unleash."

Balthazar frowned, his gaze flickering between Sam and Castiel. "The wrong hands, you say? And yet you trust her?" he asked. "The Devil herself? How can you be sure her intentions are as noble as you think?"

Castiel's expression remained impassive. "Lucifer has proven herself a neutral party in the current tension. She's not the enemy here. But those weapons, left unchecked, could be."

"There's no war I wish to partake in, Castiel," Balthazar said slowly, his voice softening slightly. "But neither do I wish to see the universe thrown into chaos by these damn things."

Dean clapped his hands together, a sharp sound that cut through the tension. "Alright, so how about we work together on this? You help us secure whatever you've taken, and we help make sure you get back to your... hedonistic retirement without any divine retribution."

Balthazar considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. But I do this for balance, not for Heaven or Hell." He walked over to a large, ornate cabinet and pulled open a drawer, retrieving a large, shimmering sphere that pulsed with light.

As Castiel took the Tear of God from Balthazar, his usual calm demeanor cracked almost immediately. He recoiled as if the artifact had burned him, his eyes widening in sudden fear.

"Something is wrong," Castiel muttered under his breath, examining the artifact more closely. His face grew pale as he sensed the deep corruption embedded within the energy of the Tear.

"What's up, Cas? What do you see?" Dean's voice was laced with concern as he stepped closer, watching the angel's frantic inspection.

"It’s... it’s not just corrupted, it’s dangerously unstable," Castiel responded, his voice escalating in urgency. Without waiting for further questions, he turned slightly away, his lips moving in a silent, desperate prayer to summon help.

Balthazar, misreading the sudden tension and Castiel’s secretive invocation, felt a surge of panic. "What are you doing? Who are you calling?" His voice was edged with suspicion and rising fear.

Before anyone could reassure him, there was a sound of wings, and Lucifer appeared, her arrival silent but immediate, responding to Castiel’s call. Her eyes quickly locked onto the artifact in Castiel’s hands.

"What have you found?" Luce’s voice was cool and collected, but her eyes betrayed her concern as they focused on the Tear. She quickly grabbed it from the smaller angel and inspected it closely. 

Before Castiel could get a word out, Balthazar’s paranoia peaked. "This is a trap!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking with anxiety. He didn't wait for a response; his instincts screamed at him to escape, to avoid whatever punishment he thought awaited him for his actions.

As he turned to flee, Castiel reached out, "Balthazar, wait—!" but it was too late. 

Balthazar took off, throwing his grace behind him in a large explosion that shook the estate down to the foundations.

Unfortunately, the swell of power hit the artifact, causing it to shatter in a godly amount of force. Kore, in all her power, barely had time to blink before the wave of energy exploded in her hand and hit her with tremendous force, flinging her back, and ripping her right out of her vessel . 

The power pushed outwards, energy zinging around like lightning in a plasma ball, flinging everything away from it. It stretched up and up, shimmering in the air until a loud CRACK ringed through the air. A large rip formed in the space, extending from the ground and up into the sky a good 10 meters. It pulsed with a sickly, unnatural light, heaving open and closed rhythmically like a monstrous, gasping mouth. Before Kore could even react, it was yanked open with a final, earth-shattering roar. A swirling vortex formed, a hungry maw sucking in everything with the force of a collapsing star. The space beyond the tear wasn't the inky blackness of space, but an even deeper, more unsettling darkness. She gasped in fear as she felt something beyond the tear stir.

Kore thrashed, her trueform melting the earth and vaporizing the debris around her to atoms. Hundreds of hands reached out and dug into anything they could get a grip on, trying desperately to fight the immense force that was dragging her into the pitch black vortex beyond the crack that had been opened. 

The load bearing pillar that Sam hid behind collapsed, sending him tumbling towards the vortex. Kore reached out and caught him with one of her hands, concentrating very hard not to incinerate him by accident. 

Kore held fast with all of her might, but the vortex was too strong, its energy pulling on her harder than anything and the ground gave away as fast as she could claw at it. 

Fuck you, Dad

With an angry roar from all 5 of her mouths, Kore was sucked into the closing vortex, with Sam still clenched in her hand. 

The two tumbled though the rip, into an eerie emptiness. Kore's eyes looked around frantically, but she could see nothing even in the light her true form gave off. 

Her whole Grace lit up like a live wire as they continued to tumble through nothing, the atmosphere was cold, as colder than her even. It whipped past her Grace, wind roaring louder than a hurricane. Kore encased Sam in an atmospheric bubble, keeping him close and safe within her Grace. It  would have been incredibly easy with a vessel, but without it was taking an alarming amount of concentration to keep from killing him. To her dismay, she discovered she was unable to access her subspace dimensions here.

Something stirred, Kore panicked. 

“Let me in, Sam!” Kore pleaded to Sam, projecting her voice into his head. 

“What!? NO!” Sam screamed over the roaring. 

“Just fucking trust me! I can't hold onto you like this for much longer! I can protect us both! Just LET ME IN!” 

“FINE YES!”

With a powerful flex, Kore pulled her grace inwards, folding her trueform over and over itself to pour into Sam through his eyes, mouth, and nose. White, iridescent wings folded tightly over them, shielding Sam’s body from the worst of the energy that was pushing and pulling at them. She began to quickly cloak their presence, tampering down on her aura to, hopefully, slip by unnoticed. 

The two continued to tumble through the empty space, their path unclear until Kore began to sense an energy ahead, one they were rapidly approaching. 

Kore was unable to steer them, her wings were next to useless in the odd space, all she could do was brace as they made impact. It was like being enfolded into a bubble once they collided into the energy signature, it collapsed and cushioned their fall, halting their wild plummet. Kore felt the energy build and build, pressure pushed along her whole form, compressing her Grace to the point she barely hovered over Sam’s skin. Fear raced like sparks up and down her Grace, was this how she died?

All at once, another loud CRACK rang through the air, and Kore felt the pressure give away on one side of her, allowing them to slip through. 

They tumbled into open air, landing hard on soft ground and even softer grass. 

Kore knelt on the ground, heaving unneeded breaths as she tried to calm herself. Being within that void had been… 

It triggered every fight or flight Kore had, instincts screaming at her to flee, Grace shivering and dimmed. 

She felt nauseous, sick . Like she wanted to roll up in a ball and hide. She had only felt such all-consuming fear around her Father. 

‘Lucifer ?’ Sam’s voice whispered in her head. Kore snapped back to herself, like a blurred camera refocusing in high resolution. 

“Sam?” she said aloud, marveling at the lower tone. Kore stood and looked over her current vessel, flexing her Grace and wings. She admired how comfortable she felt. Barbra felt like an itchy sweater that got shrunk in the dryer in comparison to Sam’s silk and Cashmere pajamas. 

“ Damn ,” she breathed out, gently wiggling each finger and toe as she settled into Sam’s body. “You’re very comfortable, Sam.” A strong sense of discomfort and panic came from Sam’s soul, flashes of ‘ cant move ’ and ‘ what ifs ’ racing through his thoughts. 

Without much thought, Kore gave Sam controle over his body once again, shifting herself back to watch. 

Sam gasped and sputtered, shaking himself out like a wet dog. His heart rate (which had picked up after she switched over) slowly began to calm.

“Lucifer?” Sam called out, looking around a little wildly. 

‘Still here ,’ she hummed within his mind. She observed the world around them, though not just through Sam’s eyes to do so. 

They were still on Earth, which was good, but things were very noticeably off. Kore’s internal clock put them several years in the past, in December of 2005. The air felt different as well, the energies holding this universe together were slightly different than her own, but she could not pinpoint it currently. 

“What happened?” Sam asked. 

‘ My educated guess is we are in an alternate universe. ’ she replied. Kore gently guided her grace out of the tight hold she still had, testing the area they had landed. She felt some residual energies of what had blasted them here to begin with, but it was quickly dissipating without the relic to tie it to. 

She could also feel this universe’s pillars, all four of them still strong and whole. 

‘ Definitely alternate universe. One that's on a slower timeline as well. ’ 

“What do you mean?”

‘ All angels have a built-in clock so to speak, I can tell the year and time by cross referencing the position of Earth within the Sol system, and the Sol system within the Milky Way, etcetera. It's not dissimilar to how humans use the stars to mark the passage of time, just on a grander scale.’

“That's… impressive,” Sam stated. She could feel it within his soul, his thoughts humming around her and her intelligence. It made Kore preen, her feathers puffing up in pride. 

Sam, surprisingly, noticed how her Grace swelled. 

“Woah,” this feels weird, he thought. 

‘ You’ll get used to it, ’ she replied. A spike of anxiety shot through Sam’s soul and it shrunk away from her. 

“Can you hear my thoughts?” he asked loudly, that edge of panic turning his voice slightly squeaky. 

‘ Just surface level. Im ‘in the house’ now, Sam, it's hard not to hear through the walls. ’

“Well, can you not?” he squeeked, the sour feel of embarrassment flooding through him.

‘ Ok ,” she said, ‘ I’ll respect your privacy Sam. Just know that, while most things will not get through, anything strong may still slip through. ” 

“You can't block it all the way?”

‘ Not without putting you to sleep or leaving you as a vessel.’ she said, ‘which I would not recommend in an unknown universe. At least this way we cannot be separated.’ Sam’s soul shivered and then settled as she built the barrier that would keep Sam’s inner thoughts private. 

Sam looked around at the rocky landscape surrounding them, the sparse trees, and snow covered ground. 

“Where are we?” he asked.

‘ Northwestern Canada .’ 

“That relic, what happened? What was that place?” 

‘ Our universe is already unstable, the energy must have been enough to rip a hole through it to the space between universes. It’s called the Empty. ’ she informed, ' it's where angels go when we die.’

“I didn’t see any?”

‘ Be glad we didn’t. From what I know, the Empty does not like it when it's messed with. Disturbing the dead could do that. ’ she wrapped her grace tighter around them. ‘ We are lucky it was us who found the first rip. Anyone else would have died or woken the Empty. I'm not completely certain we didn’t, but I was able to shield us. ’ 

“ Shit ,” Sam breathed out, reaching up to run a hand through his hair in stress. “How do we get back?” 

‘ There is a ritual I can perform, It should lead us back to our universe.’ Kore felt Sam relax against her Grace. 

It didn’t work. 

Kore angrily chanted the spell once again, copying it word for word from the show. The spell started, she felt it reach out, probing for something before ultimately sputtering out. She screeched in anger, throwing this world’s angel tablet to the ground and shattering it. She clenched the Seal of Solomon within her hand and debated on destroying it too. 

Fuck this universe . She hissed to herself. 

  ‘What's wrong? ’ Sam asked, his voice humming in their shared head. 

“It’s not working. I don’t know why.” her mind raced with possibilities, ranging from her Father’s sabotage to multiverse logistics that had even her head hurting. “Something is blocking us.”

She could feel the gears turning in Sam's mind, his soul lighting up at the introduction of  a complex problem. Nerd.

‘ What does the ritual do? ’ he asked. 

“It draws a line between universes, bringing them together until they touch on a designated point, the power behind the ritual then pierces a hole that one person can go through.” 

‘ How does it locate our universe? ’ 

“... That is a good question, Sam.” she said, her mind turning over the problem. Maybe the ritual was fizzling out because the signal to her universe was too weak? Or she wasn’t calling it forth correctly. 

But how does she find a single signature within the vastness of the Empty? 

“I need to isolate our Universe’s unique signature if I'm going to find it. Somehow .” she muttered. 

‘ You said December 2005, right ?’ Sam asked.

“Yes, that is our current time.” 

‘ Well, Me and Dean were back on the road at this time.’ he said, ‘would comparing me and him help? ’

Kore paused for a long moment. 

“Sam, you’re a fucking genius .”  

Chapter Text

AU #1 DECEMBER 2005

‘You guys have problems.’ Lucifer stated bluntly within his head. Sam wanted to groan in dismay. Being possessed seemed to be less body snatcher and more bratty hitchhiker with a constant stream of sassy commentary. 

And sound effects. 

Lucifer didn't seem fully aware that she was doing this. The first few times he commented on it, like when he accidentally bumped into a table and she made a soft ‘woop’ noise, she seemed confused for a moment before waving it off. 

‘Oof’ was a common noise, along with popping, humming, and clicking he was certain came from a beak. 

She would also quietly echo things she heard, muttering in different voices depending on what was said or who said it. 

Lucifer, as he said, didn't seem to be aware of this. Or perhaps aware he could hear it. 

Sam didn't mind it, rather he was comforted by the reminder of her presence, that he wasn’t alone in this whole other universe. It was rather quiet too, sounding like someone talking behind him but even less directional. 

He was taking his possession surprisingly well, especially after all the negative baggage that was attached to the idea. There was the initial panic that came with every time Lucifer switched over control but he forced himself to relax into it, like floating in water and letting the waves carry you. It worked, it helped that she returned control to him whenever she didn’t strictly need him, choosing to use her grace to interact with the environment instead of him. 

Sam was absolutely fascinated by Lucifer’s true form, which he was able to see parts of whenever she interacted with their surroundings. Thin, bone-white hands of various sizes would reach around them, shifting or hovering over certain things to scan them. Some hands had large, glowing red eyes embedded in their palms, which she used to inspect things. The arms moved oddly, many of them having more than one elbow that would bend and contort to see something from different angles. Walls didn’t seem to stop them: they passed through without disturbing anything, completely intangible to everything around them. 

Sam was secretly enthused that he could see Luce’s wings again, he thought about them often. They were magnificent things, three sets that stretched between 8 to 12 meters. They were a brilliant, iridescent white that reflected with a rainbow sheen. Silvery scars spiderwebbed across the meat of the wings, itching between and over the hundreds of red eyes that sat there, each open and looking around alertly. 

Large tails that resembled moth wingtails trailed behind them amidst a few long, wispy white tail feathers. In his peripheral vision, Sam could see two horn-like protrusions coming out from the sides of his head. It was very different from the red and black Devil he envisioned; Sam could see why Lucifer was considered stunningly beautiful, in an eldritch sort of way. 

He was grateful Lucifer could not hear his thoughts anymore. He thanked his lucky stars he had noticed before he had any thoughts about her . She was in his thoughts quite a lot and many of them were hardly timid. Thankfully, she could no longer hear him, though Sam's able to project his thoughts with ‘intention’ as she put it. He tested it out a few times, thinking odd things that would catch her attention with and without intention of speaking with her. It worked, bringing a great deal of relief to Sam. 

It took them only an hour to find the other Sam and Dean, Lucifer flipping through his memories like an index machine until she found their route. She was able to bring up information within his mind that Sam would never, like the texture of the bed sheets or the smell of a suspect's perfume. 

Toledo, Ohio; The Bloody Mary case. 

Flying there was an experience. Lucifer regained control of his body and took off, her bright white wings folding time and space to get them there within one breath to the next. They landed just down the road from the hotel, letting Sam walk the remainder of the way.

‘What's your perspective, Sam? You have a better understanding of your younger self than I do. Do you have any ideas on how we should approach them?" Lucifer inquired, her voice resonating with a mix of concern and curiosity that vibrated softly within him.

Sam paused, his brow furrowing as he contemplated the situation. He vividly remembered his younger days with Dean—days filled with relentless hunts, driven by the desperate search for their father and the looming threat of the Yellow-Eyed demon. Back then, they operated on a shoot-first, ask-questions-later basis; it didn’t matter whether the creature was malevolent or benign. The younger version of himself might be more receptive to Lucifer. Dean on the other hand… 

His brother had evolved significantly over the years, but it hadn’t been an easy journey. Luce had done a lot of good for them and the people close to them, enough that Dean let his guard down long enough for her to worm her way into his good graces and plant herself like a tree. His acceptance of Cas, and later Lucifer, had eased him into a more lenient view on the supernatural. 

Feeling a ripple of tension, Lucifer probed gently, "I can sense your unease, Sam."

"We need to be cautious in how we approach them," Sam suggested, his voice laced with a hint of caution. "And… perhaps it’s best if you stay hidden for now? Given who I was and the company I kept at that time, there’s a good chance we’d be met with hostility if they sense anything unusual about me."

Lucifer hummed, the soft note soothing along his shoulders and neck. ‘Nothing they could do can kill us, Sam. A bullet won't even dent us. Even if things do turn sour, I won't allow any harm to come to you.’  

And wasn’t that something to unpack? 

They continued to walk through the quiet streets of Toledo for a bit before Lucifer’s voice resonated softly within his mind, carrying a polite yet firm request. 

‘ Sam, would you mind terribly if we made some alterations to your wardrobe? It’s just that while I’m at the helm, I’d like to... well, express a bit differently. ’

Sam raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement coloring his thoughts. “What’s wrong with my clothes?” he asked, looking down at his usual ensemble of a flannel shirt and jeans, the staple of his wardrobe for as long as he could remember.

Lucifer’s response was quick, tinged with her blend of sincerity and amusement. ‘ Oh, nothing inherently wrong. It’s just not quite my style. You do understand, don’t you? Aesthetics are somewhat important to me. ’

Sam chuckled, “Alright, Lucifer. You can change up the look—just remember to change it back when I’m driving again, okay? I don’t think either of them would trust me if they saw me in something... what’s your style exactly?”

A sense of satisfaction emanated from Lucifer, almost palpable in its intensity. ‘ Splendid! And fear not, I’ll make sure you look impeccable—think less roadside chic and more sexy sophistication. We’re talking clean lines, perhaps a tailored vest? ’

Sam couldn’t help but laugh, the image of himself in a sharply tailored suit, walking next to Dean, who would undoubtedly be in his rugged leather jacket and boots, was too much. “Sure, as long as it’s not too flashy. We don’t want to draw too much attention.”

‘ Oh, it’ll be tasteful, I assure you. Elegance is key, ’ Lucifer assured him, her tone rich with anticipation and unmistakable excitement. 

She quickly slipped into control and side stepped them into a dark alley. Sam relaxed back and watched as Luce began to examine them from different angles in a large floor length mirror she conjured. Sam felt her Grace vibrate against his soul in excitement as she began to conjure different outfits on them, switching colors and cuts to fit whatever specifications she came up with. 

Luce settled on a sharp white suit with a blood red vest corset, all accented with silver accessories like a watch chain and cufflinks. A dark maroon tie sat crisply at his collar. 

Sam didn’t mind the look, it wasn’t his style but the ribs of the corset smoothed his silhouette, making him look sharp and angular. 

‘ Not bad, ’ he murmured as Luce turned to admire their body. 

“Thank you,” she chirped, wiggling her fingers at the reflection, but the reflection stepped closer to him? 

What the hell?

With a start, Sam realized he was in control of his body once again. Looking at himself. Lucifer as himself?

“Holy shit?” he said, looking over the doppelganger, who gave him a 1000 watt smile that was all teeth . 

“I thought this might put you more at ease.” his own voice rang in his ears, sounding weird not coming from… well him. 

“How are you doing this??” Sam asked in bafflement. “I can still feel you.”

“This,” Lucifer gestured to her- himself? “Is a construct, a projection of light and mass that I control remotely.” Sam blinked and focused his attention slightly upward, noticing that two of the hands with eyes were wrist deep into the back of Lucifer’s head. It was like a demented version of a puppet. The fact that these arms extended from Sam's own back made his skin crawl slightly. 

“Remotely,” he echoed back, his tone noticeably off. Lucifer’s eyes followed his gaze, her eyebrows shooting up when she saw what was there.

Lucifer's eyes flickered back to Sam’s, “you can perceive me.” She stated. Sam nodded.

“How much of me?”

“Uh.. your arms and wings mainly. I see your tail feathers sometimes as well.” 

“Fascinating,” Lucifer breathed out, stepping closer as the arms linking them contorted to shorten the distance. “You only see the small parts I keep out intentionally. I wonder how much of me you could truly see.” 

Lucifer seemed to think a long moment before waving her hand. “A thought for another day.” 

Before Sam's eyes, the construct melted away, reforming into Lucifer’s familiar feminine form, now sporting the same suit but tailored for her figure. 

“I can present my construct as anyone.” She said, noticing Sam's stare. 

“That must be handy,” he said dumbly. He found his eyes drifting to the curve of her neck, the stretch of fabric over her shoulders and waist. He snapped his gaze to the wall as his gaze began to linger on her chest and legs. 

“Handy is one way to put it,” she replied, “It will give us some wiggle room if needed.”

Sam nodded. 

“Do you think they’ll be calm long enough for us to explain?" Luce asked, a hint of doubt in her voice.

"Perhaps not calm," Sam admitted, "but cooperative. I know their triggers and can navigate their suspicions well enough, seeing a familiar face will help. We just have to be careful.” 

Luce nodded, “Let’s proceed then, shall we?” with a quick wink, Luce’s construct vanished and the arms retreated to Sam’s back. 

Sam took a deep breath as he approached the hotel where his alternate self and Dean were staying. The plan was straightforward: he would go in alone, with Lucifer silently accompanying him as a mere observer within his consciousness. He really hoped that presenting a familiar face would help mitigate the shock of his sudden appearance.

He picked the lock of their hotel room with ease—a skill perfected over countless hunts—and slipped inside the dimly lit room to wait. It wasn't long before he heard the familiar sound of the key card and the murmur of voices as they returned, weary from a day's hunting.

Dean was the first to notice him, his hand instinctively going to the gun at his side. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice laced with tension. His finger twitched on the trigger.

Younger Sam followed behind, his posture defensive. "How did you get in here?"

Raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture, Sam tried to calm them. "I'm not here to hurt you," he reassured them softly. "I just need to talk."

Dean's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You look just like Sam. Are you a shifter? Skinwalker?"

To prove his human nature, Sam quickly sliced his arm, showing the red blood and lack of reaction beyond human, "See? Not a shifter, not a skinwalker. I’m actually from an alternate universe."

The younger Sam’s expression turned from suspicion to intrigue. "Alternate universe? What do you mean?"

Sam sighed, the situation's inherent strangeness not lost on him. "It’s a long story, and it sounds crazy, but I’m you—or a version of you—from a different reality. I’m here because I got caught in a crazy relic that blasted me out of my reality into yours."

Dean, though still visibly tense, holstered his gun but remained standing. "Okay, alternate universe Sam, why come here? And why break into our room?"

Sam took a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking again. “I need your help,” he began, his voice carrying the weight of urgency and sincerity. “There’s a spell that can send me back to my universe, but it’s not working. After some analysis, I’ve figured out that I’m missing something crucial—the unique ‘signal’ or frequency from my universe that sets it apart. To isolate this frequency, I need to compare myself to you,” he said, gesturing towards the younger Sam.

Both brothers were silent, processing the information. The room was thick with tension, the concept of alternate universes challenging their grasp on reality. Dean broke the silence with a scoff, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he glanced at his younger brother. “Alternate universe, and you’re still a nerd.”

Younger Sam raised an eyebrow, his skepticism mingled with a hint of curiosity. “So, you’re saying you need to compare our... what? DNA? How does this work exactly?”

Sam nodded, appreciating the analytical approach of his younger self. “It’s a bit more complex than DNA. It’s about our intrinsic essence, our soul’s unique signature. Each universe has its own specific frequency, like a radio station. By comparing our signatures, I can pinpoint my universe’s exact frequency and create a stable portal to get back.”

Dean’s reaction was swift and fiercely protective. “Hell no, you ain’t messing with Sam’s soul!” he shouted, his voice filled with aggressive defensiveness.

Other Sam’s expression shifted from skeptical curiosity to a more serious concern. “And what happens if we can’t find this ‘signal’? Are you stuck here?”

“Ain’t no ‘ifs’ ‘cuz it ain't happening!” Dean snarled, his gaze dark and angry as he looked over at Sam.

Sam winced, knowing the topic of souls was a tender subject for them, even before Dean’s trip to Hell. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I understand your concern, Dean. I’m not proposing to mess with his soul directly. Think of it more like a non-invasive scan—just identifying the unique frequency, not altering or damaging anything.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, his protective instincts clearly on high alert. “You’re talking about our souls like they’re radio waves or something. How do we know this won’t hurt him?”

“I’ve done this before,” he lied smoothly, “it’s safe. It’s more like measuring an energy field than anything else. No harm, no interference, just observation.”

Other Sam looked thoughtful, his analytical mind weighing the options. “If it’s just observation, it sounds less risky. But why should we trust you? We barely know you.”

‘ Offer them a deal ,’ Lucifer whispered slyly in his mind.

‘ What? ’ Sam thought back, momentarily distracted.

‘ Offer them a deal: the Yellow-Eyed demon for a look at this Sam’s soul ,’ she clarified, her tone dripping with calculated intent.

Sam hesitated briefly, then nodded, seeing the merit in Lucifer’s suggestion. “How about this? I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you information on the Yellow-Eyed demon, including how to kill him, in exchange for a brief look at Sam’s soul. It’s a fair trade, and it will help you in your hunt.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed further, suspicion evident. “You know about the Yellow-Eyed demon?”

Sam nodded, his gaze steady. “I do. I know who he is, what he’s after, and most importantly, how to stop him. This knowledge could save you a lot of time and pain.”

Other Sam’s eyes widened slightly, the offer clearly tempting. “And you’re willing to trade this information for just an observation of my soul’s signature?”

“Exactly,” Sam confirmed. “No tricks, no harm, just a quick scan. And in return, you get valuable intel on one of your biggest enemies.”

Dean glanced at his brother, clearly torn. “Sam, I don’t like this. It feels too risky.”

Other Sam considered for a moment, then nodded slowly. “If what he says is true, Dean, it could give us a huge advantage. And if it’s just observation, I’m willing to take the risk.”

Dean sighed, clearly still uneasy but relenting. “Alright, but if you double-cross us, we’ll make sure you regret it.”

“Deal. Let’s get started then.” Sam smiled reassuringly, the pleased feeling from Lucifer’s Grace filling him. 

(AN: have some ART i made :D first time drawing Sam an i think i did pretty good!

Chapter Text

KORE UNIVERSE: SPRING 2013

Barbra awoke with a start, the acrid scent of devastation filling her nostrils. She coughed, her body trembling as she tried to comprehend the chaos around her. Every movement sent sharp pains through her, but fear gripped her more tightly than the pain. She was alone—truly alone—for the first time in years.

Her vision blurred as she looked down to see her wounds gaping and bleeding bright red. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, but they quickly cleared and she was able to witness something extraordinary: her flesh knitting itself back together, the gashes closing as if being sewn by an invisible hand.

“What... what is happening?” she whispered, her voice shaky. The pain receded, replaced by a tingling sensation as her body mended itself. 

Lucifer had made improvements, but Barbra had never experienced them firsthand. The realization that her body was now supernaturally enhanced brought a mix of awe and fear. “Oh, great. Now I’m some kind of monster,” she muttered, tears welling in her eyes at the thought of Lucifer’s absence.

Barbra flexed her fingers, noticing her nails—no, claws—were sharp, silvery stiletto blades that glinted menacingly in the dim light. She dragged one across a chunk of debris, watching in amazement as it sliced through effortlessly, the material parting like air.

Before she could process her new abilities further, a strangely familiar voice called out, cutting through the haze of dust and smoke. “Lucifer? Are you there?” Nick’s voice, as she knew from the brief snippets she got here and there, was laced with urgency and worry.

“Here!” Barbra called back, her voice trembling as she struggled to her feet, swaying slightly but managing to stay upright. The sight of Nick pushing through the rubble toward her brought a wave of relief mixed with apprehension.

Nick reached her side, his teal and black eyes wide with concern. “Thank goodness, you’re unharmed! What happened?” His gaze scanned her, confusion flickering in his eyes. “My Lord?”

Barbra shook her head, her expression a mix of fear and determination. “No, I’m not Lucifer. I’m Barbra. Lucifer... she’s gone. I woke up, and she wasn’t here.”

Nick’s face paled, the weight of her words sinking in. “ Gone ? What do you mean, gone ?”

“I don’t know!” Barbra cried, her voice cracking with fear. “One moment she was here, and the next, she’s just... gone . And now I’m awake, and I don’t know what to do.”

Nick’s large hand settled on her shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “We’ll figure this out, Barbra. But first, we need to get you to safety. Noone must know of our Lord’s absence. The demons would riot and everything our Lord has given us will go up in flames.”

Barbra nodded quickly, fear of seeing or interacting with anyone sending electric shocks down her legs and arms. “You’re right. Let’s move before anyone notices.”

Nick supported her as they navigated through the wreckage, Barbra’s newfound strength aiding their progress. Despite the chaos around them, she moved with a fluidity and speed that surprised even her, her body reacting with an efficiency she wasn’t used to.

As they made their way out of the devastated estate, Barbra couldn’t help but glance back, a mixture of fear and sadness in her eyes. “ Lucifer, wherever you are, please come back, ” she prayed under her breath.

Nick tightened his grip on her shoulder, guiding her through the last stretch of debris. “She’ll find us, Barbra. We’ll get her back.”

Barbra nodded, anxiety fluttering in her gut. “She has to. I can’t do this alone.”

AU#1 DECEMBER 2005-JANUARY 2006 

Kore, still possessing and now posing as Sam, gleefully stuffed another chicken leg in her mouth and bit down. With one swift jerk, the bone came out clean. She happily munched away, already reaching for another leg of chicken, her eyes twinkling with delight.

The alternate Sam and Dean watched in fascination, their expressions a blend of amazement and bewilderment as she methodically devoured the contents of two entire buckets of KFC, sides and biscuits included. Grease glistened on her lips as she licked them clean, her fingers moving with a dexterity that suggested this was not her first encounter with a feast of this magnitude.

“Where does it all go?” Dean asked in astonishment, his eyes wide as she shoved another generous scoop of mashed potatoes into her—and Sam’s—shared mouth. Sam grumbled in the back of her mind about grease, carbs, and nutritional balance, but she cheerfully ignored him, savoring every bite.

“Were you starving or something?” Younger Sam asked, his tone tinged with a mix of disgust and a small amount of reluctant respect. The sheer volume of food being consumed was both impressive and slightly unnerving.

She swallowed her food, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. “Nope, I just really love food,” she replied with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She felt her Sam sigh internally, his exasperation evident despite her enjoyment.

“Seriously, though,” Dean continued, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms, his eyes never leaving her as she reached for a biscuit. “I’ve never seen anyone eat like that. It’s like you’ve got a black hole in your stomach.”

Kore chuckled, the sound resonating warmly. “Well, I do have a bit of a larger appetite than most. You could say it’s one of my... unique qualities.” She winked, enjoying the momentary bafflement on their faces.

“Unique is one way to put it,” Younger Sam muttered, his eyes flicking between the empty buckets and the remaining sides. Despite his initial discomfort, there was a hint of curiosity in his gaze, as if he was trying to understand the enigma that he thought was his alternate self.

Dean shook his head, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. “I gotta admit, you’ve got a talent for eating, if nothing else.”

Kore laughed, the sound light and infectious. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, popping a biscuit into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “Food is one of life’s greatest pleasures, after all.”

“You make it look like a sport,” Younger Sam remarked, his tone softening as he watched her with a growing sense of amusement. “How do you stay in shape?”

Kore grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Good genes, I suppose,” she said, patting her stomach playfully. “And a very active lifestyle.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “If I ate like that, I’d be out of commission for a week.”

“Everyone’s got their own pace,” Kore replied with a shrug, reaching for the last piece of chicken. “Mine just happens to be a bit more... enthusiastic.” She winked again, enjoying the lighthearted banter and the temporary distraction from their pressing problems.

As she finished the last bite, Kore leaned back in her chair, she settled their stomach, the food being quickly absorbed by her Grace for energy. Not even a drop in the ocean, but waste-not want-not. She handed control back to Sam and settled in the back of his head to observe and enjoy the post-eating lethargy that even she wasn’t exempt from. 

Her Grace rolled lazily about in their vessel, absentmindedly flicking at a stray strand of Sam’s soul that flared every time she touched it. Each touch sent a beautiful ripple of light across his essence, akin to a pulse or wave, causing the vibrant colors of his soul to swirl together in a mesmerizing gradient. Sam’s soul was a spectacle of beauty, unlike any she had previously encountered. It bore a humanoid shape, yet it shimmered with a kaleidoscope of colors that twinkled like stars in a night sky. The spider-web-like cracks that etched across his soul occasionally formed images—silhouettes of people he cared about and moments of significant impact in his life.

In these faint, hairline fractures, she could discern the outline of Dean—his jawline, the iconic flare of his jacket, the strong set of his shoulders. There were impressions of Bobby and Adam, too, and even Castiel’s form seemed to hover protectively around Sam's shoulders.

Most astonishing, however, was her own imprint upon him. Kore’s presence was marked along the right side of his ribs, from hip to shoulder; the depiction of her with three large sets of wings enveloping a delicate frame occupied a significant portion of his soul’s landscape. The imagery shimmered brilliantly under the soft light of Sam's inner essence, the wings subtly shifting with each contour of his soul.

Pale white fingers traced the edge of her outline. His soul flared under her touch, the light localized around where she made contact. 

She marveled at the image, it was irrefutable proof of her impact and presence in his life.

Something warm lit up within her Grace, chasing the cold and acid pain to the far edges of her consciousness. Opening all five of her mouths, Kore began to croon a soft melody. There were no words, just a soft scale that mimicked the swirling lights within Sam’s soul, harmonizing with his resonance. 

It was a long while before she realized that Sam had fallen asleep, lulled to a peaceful sleep by her singing. She gently took back control of their body and stood from the chair that he had been lounging in. 

She passed by the other Sam and Dean, who were sleeping and cleaning their guns respectively. Dean gave her a sharp look as she left, but Kore ignored it. She had a job to do. 

Kore left the room with quiet determination, Sam's peaceful slumber still a comforting weight in the back of her mind. Her steps were silent as she navigated through the hotel, slipping past the few other guests and staff without drawing attention.

The Colt. It was a legendary weapon, and in this universe, it was still in the possession of its original owner. Retrieving it was crucial for their plans, and Kore knew exactly where to find it. She exited the hotel and moved swiftly through the streets, her grace guiding her as she folded space to cover the distance in mere moments.

Her destination was an old, unassuming house on the outskirts of the town. It looked abandoned, its windows boarded up and the paint peeling from the weathered wood. But Kore knew better. This was where Daniel Elkins, the original owner of The Colt, had hidden himself away. The seasoned hunter was known for his secrecy and paranoia, making him a difficult man to track down under normal circumstances.

Kore sauntered up to the house, toying with her silver cufflinks as she inspected the wards on the property. Not bad for a human, but not enough to keep her out. She dismantled them with a thought, her grace easily overpowering the older, weaker magic. Once the path was clear, she stepped up to the door and knocked firmly.

It took a few moments before she heard movement inside. The door creaked open just a crack, revealing the barrel of a shotgun pointed directly at her. Behind it, Daniel Elkins' suspicious eyes glinted in the dim light.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his voice gruff and wary.

Kore remained calm, her expression serene. "I need The Colt, Mr. Elkins. It's a matter of great importance."

Elkins scoffed, not lowering his weapon. "You think I'm just gonna hand it over to some stranger? What kind of fool do you take me for?"

Kore’s eyes glowed faintly in the darkness of the night, causing Elkin’s to raise his shotgun up once again. "I'm not asking, Mr. Elkins. I'm telling you. The Colt is needed to stop a greater threat. You know its purpose, and you know that sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

Elkins’ grip on the shotgun tightened, but there was a flicker of fear and uncertainty in his eyes. "And who exactly are you to make that call?"

Kore's voice softened, carrying the weight of millennia. "I am Lucifer, the Morning Star. And I need that weapon"

The revelation stunned Elkins into silence. His grip on the shotgun faltered for just a moment, but it was enough. With a swift motion, Kore disarmed him, her movements too quick for him to react. She held the shotgun in one hand, her gaze never leaving his.

"Please, Mr. Elkins. The Colt," she reiterated, her tone both commanding and imploring.

Realizing the futility of resistance, Elkins sighed heavily. He stepped back and gestured for her to follow. "Fine. Follow me."

He led her to a hidden compartment in the floor, lifting a loose floorboard to reveal a small, ornate box. Elkins retrieved it and handed it to her with a resigned expression. "You better know what you're doing," he muttered.

Kore accepted the box with a nod of gratitude. "Thank you. Your cooperation will not be forgotten." With a snap of her fingers, Elkin’s memory of her face faded. She placed a journal of Vampires on the table; perhaps the old hunter could avoid his alternate self’s fate. 

With The Colt now in her possession, Kore left Elkins' house as quietly as she had arrived, folding space once again to return to the hotel. She entered a hotel room next to where the Other Sam and Dean still stayed. 

Settling into a bed, to let Sam sleep normally, she carefully placed the box containing The Colt on the table, her thoughts already turning to the next steps of their plan. She settled their head into the pillow and then receded into his mind, folding herself down and gently pushing Sam’s soul to the forefront of their body. There, she contemplated how to get them home, all the while staring up at the starry canopy of Sam’s soul as it twinkled at her. 

The next morning, Sam woke up to the faint light of dawn filtering through the curtains. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the morning light. Lucifer's presence was a comforting hum in the back of his mind, and he could sense her alertness, even if she remained silent.

He got dressed quickly, spotting a box he recognized on the side table; Luce seemed to have retrieved the Colt some time during the night. Sam shivered quietly at the thought of someone being in control of his body when he was not alert, but he didn’t know how to address it. He shelved that thought for later. 

 He made his way to the room where the other Sam and Dean were staying. Knocking lightly on the door, he waited. A few moments later, the door opened, and Dean stood there, looking groggy but alert.

"Morning," Dean greeted, stepping aside to let Sam in.

Other Sam was already up, seated at the small table with a cup of coffee. He looked up as Sam entered, his expression curious. "What’s in the box?" he asked.

Sam carefully put down the ornate box. "Something that will help you," he replied, opening the box to reveal The Colt.

Dean’s eyes widened in amazement, and Other Sam leaned forward, his interest piqued. "No way," Dean breathed out, reaching for the gun. He handled it reverently, as if holding a piece of history. "This is the real deal."

Other Sam looked equally astonished. "Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice filled with awe.

Sam smiled slightly. "I knew where it was stashed in my universe. Figured it would be in the same place here."

Dean examined the gun closely, his fingers tracing the intricate engravings. "This is incredible. We’ve been looking for this for years ."

Other Sam nodded, his eyes shining with excitement. "With this, we can kill the Yellow-Eyed Demon. We can end this."

Dean’s expression turned serious as he looked at his brother. "Yeah, we can. But... should we wait for Dad? He’s been hunting this thing his whole life. He should be there when we kill it."

 The younger brother’s excitement dimmed slightly as he considered Dean’s words. "You’re right. Dad should be there. He deserves to see it end."

Sam watched the brothers deliberate, feeling a sense of satisfaction that they were so eager to use the weapon. He knew how important it was to them. "It’s your call," he said softly. "But I’ll be here to help, whatever you decide."

Dean nodded, his grip tightening on The Colt. "We need to find Dad. He needs to know we have this."

"We’ll call him, tell him what we’ve got. He’ll want to join us as soon as he can." Other Sam agreed. 

Dean didn’t hesitate to crack open his phone and dial his Dad’s number, and then leave a message after it went to voicemail. 

The day passed with no word from John. The waiting was grueling, but it gave the brothers ample time to bond and hunt together. With Sam's knowledge and experience from his universe, they tackled the Bloody Mary case efficiently.

During the hunt, Sam impressed the other Sam and Dean with his combat skills. He moved with precision, his strikes powerful and calculated. When the spirit attacked, Sam took the hit head-on, crashing through several mirrors and landing hard on the floor. Other Sam and Dean rushed over, but Sam was already getting back on his feet, dusting himself off as if nothing had happened.

"Dude, are you made of steel or something?" Dean exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment.

Other Sam looked equally impressed, if a tad suspicious. "That hit should’ve knocked you out cold."

Sam shrugged, feeling a bit surprised himself. "I guess I’m tougher than I thought," he said, though he couldn’t shake that odd feeling.

Later, as they drove back to the motel, Sam’s curiosity got the better of him. ‘ Lucifer, did you have something to do with that? ’ he thought, directing his question inward.

Lucifer’s presence flickered warmly in his mind. ‘ Of course, Sam. My possession automatically enhances your physical form. You’re stronger, faster, and more resilient.’

Sam felt a mix of relief and unease. ‘ You could have mentioned that earlier.’

‘ I thought you knew ,’ Lucifer replied with a hint of amusement. ‘ Consider it a perk of our arrangement. ’

Sam chuckled softly, shaking his head. ‘Guess I should thank you. ’

‘You’re welcome,’ Lucifer said, her tone playful. ‘But be careful, they are getting suspicious.’

‘I will.’

In the evening, as the trio lounged in the motel room after another successful hunt, Dean and Other Sam’s curiosity about Sam’s home universe reached a tipping point.

“So,” Dean began, leaning back in his chair with a casual air that belied his intense interest, “tell us more about your universe. What’s different over there?”

Sam, caught off guard but eager to share, grinned and leaned forward. “Well, it's pretty different as of now. It's was early 2013 when I left.”

“That's almost 8 years ahead of us.” Other Sam piped up. Sam nodded.

“A lot has happened, a lot . It's hard to really think of where to start. Our yellow eyes is dead, Dean got him.” Dean fist pumped the air, his eyes sparkling with wicked glee. 

“ Fuck yeah, good for him.” He exclaimed. “How'd he go out?” 

Sam pointed to the gun. The brothers shared a satisfied look. He wondered how much to reveal, would telling them this hurt this universe? He pushed the thought towards Lucifer, who had been quietly humming to herself in the back of his head, her arms outstretched through the walls and ceiling as she did her own thing. 

‘This is an alternate dimension, not the past. Any changes you make here will not affect our world. I don't see the harm in giving them a leg up. Their world will not turn out the same.’

Sam was quiet for a long time. He turned over the thought in his head about how much good he could do, how much pain he could prevent these other Winchesters from experiencing. But..

‘... But won't it prevent you from getting free?’ he asked quietly. Lucifer stilled in his head, her Grace going smooth and silent. 

‘Sam I…’ She seemed at a loss for words, which surprised him. The elegant and powerful Lucifer, thrown at someone caring for her. Her Grace pressed along his insides, soothingly cool.

‘I appreciate your sentiments, Sam.’ she continued, composing herself. ‘But, Sam.. I'm and outlier, a rarity. Most versions of me, especially in universes where you Winchesters are as well, aren't great.’ 

‘what do you mean?’ he asked, ‘how do you know?’ he felt Lucifer shift around in his body, a sour tang of what he swore was anxiety filling his mouth. 

‘It’s something I'd rather not discuss, but let’s say... I’ve seen other versions of me, in other places. And most of them are not like me.’

Sam felt his interest heighten but knew better than to push further.

Talking about Yellow eyes and the Special children was hard, but talking about their Dad’s death and Dean's deal? Even harder. 

Both brothers were white as ghosts as Sam recounted the memory of Dean being dragged to Hell by hell hounds, how they ripped him apart and left him almost unrecognizable. 

“I'm so sorry,” other Sam whispered, his eyes wide and watery. Sam could see the fear and simmering self hate in his eyes. “I don't know how I could go on as long as you've had without Dean.” 

“Oh he's alive.” Sam cut in, the two looked at him with deep confusion. 

“You just said-” 

“Yes he did die, but his soul was saved from Hell and he was resurrected, healthy and whole.” 

“How?” Dean exclaimed, “demon carry him out?” 

“Uh, no, not a demon,” Sam struggled with his words, trying to figure out how to explain to them the angels without giving away too much about his passenger. “It was an angel. In my universe, angels are real, and one of them, Castiel, pulled Dean out of Hell."

Other Sam's eyes widened in awe. "Angels? Like, actual angels? With wings and all?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, with wings and all. They’re... well, they're powerful, and not always easy to deal with, but they can be allies."

Dean remained skeptical. "So you're telling me some halo-wearing do-gooder just waltzed into Hell and yanked me out? Sounds fake, but ok."

"I know it sounds crazy," Sam admitted, "but it's true. Castiel saved Dean, and he’s been an ally ever since. Not all angels are good, though. Some have their own agendas."

Other Sam was still in awe. "I can't believe it... angels. It's like something out of a dream."

Dean, though still skeptical, seemed to soften a bit. "Alright, let's say I believe you. What do these angels want? Why save me?"

"There's a bigger picture," Sam explained. "A lot of it has to do with stopping the apocalypse.”

“The what? ” Both other Sam and Dean shouted. Sam cringed, knowing this was going to be an awful conversation. Sam was revealing a lot of information that he and his Dean learned over years. They had time to process things, this Sam and Dean did not. 

He help up his hands at them as they began to barrage him with questions, yelling over one another and becoming more angry as they fed on each other's fear. 

Sam had to yell back to be heard, urging them to hear them out. It took a long moment, but he eventually got them both sitting and quiet for the next part. 

“I know! I know it's a lot but I can't explain if you're shouting at me. Now sit and let's continue,” Sam ordered. 

What followed was a long, grueling few hours where Sam was picked apart for all he was worth. Sam explained the best he could, carefully skirting some details. Oh he explained there were defected angels that rebelled how Michael was defeated by one of these angels. 

He also left out their continued partnership, and, obviously, his current passenger. 

It was hard, Dean knew him better than most and was able to tell when he was fibbing; thankfully, Lucifer was there to help, twisting his words artfully until he had them convinced. 

After a while, the three separated to cool down and give the two brothers time to process. 

Sam sank down into his bed, feeling the weight of the exhausting emotional talk weigh on his shoulders. 

‘You did good, Sam. ’ Lucifer whispered into his ear. Sam scoffed. 

“That was a mess,” he rebutted, “I’m just glad we were able to warn them.” 

‘It’s up to them now, you gave them a lot. Enough to change this universe.’

Sam sighed. 

“Let's just hope it’s for the better.”

Chapter Text

The worst thing happened later that night. 

Later on, the three reconvened in the brother’s room. It was awkward at first, but other Sam broke the ice and they began their normal chatter once again. Sam’s dimension came back up after Sam had brought out his phone to get their numbers. 

“Whoa, that’s your phone?” Other Sam asked, pointing at the device. Sam held up the black phone in his hand, it was thin and sleek, with soft, grippy sides to prevent slipping or fall damage. Luce had given it to him a few months ago, one of her newer models of phones MS was releasing. She had warded it to hell and back, and only gave him a cheeky wink when he asked if this one was bugged, too. 

He still used it, the internet connection on it was fantastic, and the hotspot was handy for when he needed to use his laptop on the go. The interface was also surprisingly good. It was much easier to navigate and certain custom options within it allowed him to maximize his efficiency. The encrypted calling was also handy to keep local law off his and Dean's ass. 

“Fancy tech, that from 2013?” Dean asked, reaching out as Sam offered him the device. Dean thumbed at it for a bit, swiping back and forth over the screen. “This thing is snazzy.” 

“Yeah, we have a friend in our universe, really tech-savvy. She’s been taking over the tech world for a few years now, and she recently gave me this.”

Dean’s eyes widened as he inspected the device. “Damn, that’s slick. Way better than the brick phones we’re stuck with.”

Other Sam leaned in, intrigued. “What’s so special about it?”

Sam preened a little, enjoying their interest. His last phone had a touchscreen as well; a Samsung Galaxy S2. It was only a year outdated in 2012 when he got it. But Luce’s phones hit the market around a month later and wiped the floor with them. She gifted all her friends with these phones. They used them sparingly… at first. “Her designs are really good . The interface is simple yet ingenious, and the graphics are far better. The cell service never cuts out, and any bugs get fixed quickly with each update.”

Dean whistled appreciatively, giving the other Sam a look he didn’t quite catch. “Sounds like a miracle worker. What else has she done?”

Sam took a deep breath, considering how much to reveal. “She’s actually responsible for a lot of the advancements in green energy. Solar panels, wind turbines, you name it. She’s got this company, MS, that’s been pushing the envelope in the tech and energy sectors. We’ve got free energy in most parts of the country now because of her initiatives.”

Other Sam looked genuinely impressed. “Wow, that’s... incredible. We could use someone like that here.”

Sam smiled wistfully. “Yeah, she’s something else. She’s also helped us out of more than a few tight spots. It’s like having a guardian angel.” he secretly laughed at his own joke, feeling the tingling of Lucifer’s own laugh made him feel even better. 

“Mmm yeah,” Dean said offhandedly, “... she pretty?” Sam gaze snapped over to Dean, a lightning bolt of anxiety shooting down his sternum. 

“W-what?” he stuttered out, caught left footed. He should have known Dean of all people would catch on immediately. It was all good when it was just them in the car!! But, oh god, Lucifer was here. No no no no! 

Dean’s gaze was predatory, his grin devilish and sharp in a way only a sibling tormenting another sibling could truly be. And Sam had already answered his question…

“You heard me, Is. She. Pretty?” Dean goaded, the shark-like grin never leaving his face. Sam stuttered over his words, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. Lucifer was worryingly quiet in his mind, but her presence burned along his body like a scalding fire. 

“I-i mean she, she is- she is pretty,” Sam stumbled. Blood rushed to his face, making his skin turn a tomato red. He desperately hoped for escape, looking at all the doors and wondering how to get out of there the fastest.

“You like her,” Dean stated, his eyebrows wiggling. Sam felt his heart jump to his throat, “I can tell, you get that goofy look in your eyes when you like someone, and you’re practically mooning.” 

Sam felt like the breath had been stolen from his lungs, panic clogged his brain and Lucifer’s normally ever moving Grace still quiet didnt help . He could feel her surprise like pinpricks against his sides, her stunned silence amplified his anxiety.

‘ Luce, please say something, ’ Sam begged internally, but there was no immediate response. The quiet stretched on, making his heart pound harder.

“Dean, come on, give him a break,” Other Sam finally intervened, sensing his distress. “It’s been a long day. We should all get some rest.”

Dean snorted but relented, giving Sam one last teasing grin. “Alright, alright. We’ll leave the lover boy alone. For now.”

Sam mumbled a quick goodnight, practically fleeing the room. As he closed the door to his own room, he leaned against it, trying to catch his breath. His whole body was lit up, his chest burning

“Luce?” he choked out, his throat closing up as he began to slide into full panic. 

All at once, her Grace moved again, growing and enfolding over his soul, closing around it like a hug. Her touch moved along the fire that burned within him, dousing the flame that threatened to choke him. 

‘Shhh, Sam, calm down. Everything is ok, ’ her voice murmured in his ears.

“I-this wasn’t how- i-i didn-” he struggled to catch his breath. 

‘ Sam. Calm yourself, ’ cold, cool hands brushed softly over his back and sides, rubbing firm circles in with her thumbs up and along his spine, up to his neck. Tension slowly bled out of him, and Sam felt his heart rate begin to slow. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered after a long moment, feeling ashamed for such an emotional response. 

‘For what? ’ she asked, not stopping in her ministrations. Talons dragged through his hair, flicking about the strands and massaging his scalp. He would melt if he wasn’t so embarrassed. 

“All of… this.” he flopped his hands, which hung limply at his sides, indicating everything. Lucifer was quiet for a long moment. 

‘Don't feel ashamed for feeling things, Sam.’ She began, dozens of cold fingers tracing along the contours of his spine and ribs, tracing the outlines of the sigils carved there. ‘ As for earlier, I won't beat around the bush. Dean implied that you regard me romantically and your response indicated you do.’  

Sam’s breath hitched again, and he fought down another bout of panic. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat painful. 

“ Yes ,” he whispered, very very softly. The quiet room ate his words, the silence within watching on as Sam almost prayed for reprieve. 

‘I'm not… uninterested. ’ Lucifer offered after a long moment.

Sam’s whole body felt like it had been dipped in liquid nitrogen with how hard he froze. 

“What?”

There was a clicking sound, no doubt from a beak. He felt her Grace slither along his insides, coiling along his shoulders and back. 

‘ I admit, I have not regarded you romantically in the past, ’ she confessed, ‘ But I have not considered romance at all for a long long time. So your interest in me is a surprise, but I find, not an unwelcome one .’

Sam felt his heart pick up once again, but for a very different reason this time. Anxiety was replaced with excitement, but the adrenaline rush was just as fiery. 

 “You mean that?” he asked, barely able to believe what he was hearing.

‘I do,’ Luce replied softly. ‘ I enjoy your company, and find myself not mentally drained when I am with you as with others. I often look forward to when you drop by. I would not be against it if you decided to… woo me and see where things go. ’ Her Grace flicked along the side of his neck, cool fingers tracing the line of his jaw. 

Sam felt almost high off the giddy feeling that filled him. Lucifer liked him! Maybe not in the way he was hoping off the bat, but it was something he could work with. Hope floomed under his sternum like a flower, his insides felt lighter than air and he felt like he could run a marathon in a dead sprint. 

“I can do that!” he stuttered, enthusiasm twisting his tongue as he tried to speak. Her amusement curled along his sides sweetly, the feather-light sensation tickling his ribs. 

‘Then consider it a challenge,’ Lucifer teased, her tone light and playful. The edges of her Grace shimmered around him, making the air feel electric. ‘Court me, Sam Winchester. Show me what you’ve got. ’

Sam laughed, the sound filled with a mix of nervousness and excitement. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of bemusement and anticipation. “Alright, I’ll take that challenge. And you won’t be disappointed.”

‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she responded, her presence in his mind a comforting warmth that sparked his courage.

That night, as Sam lay in bed, his mind raced with ideas. How does one woo an ancient celestial being who had seen and experienced nearly everything? Flowers and chocolates seemed laughably inadequate. No, he needed something unique, something meaningful. His thoughts drifted through memories of their time together, searching for hints of her likes and interests, anything that could give him an edge in his unexpected courtship.

Frogs immediately came to mind, Luce had that really amazing room filled with them. He had seen her new white glass frogs, the ones that had red eyes and red toes, the day she had gotten them. She had been so enthused, gushing about their development, habitat, diet, breeding, and so on. Sam had followed along closely at the time, but was more enthralled by her presence than the new species of amphibian. 

Sam noticed she had a habit of letting go of her more human habits when she was excited, her movements would become jerky and alien as she gained enthusiasm for whatever she was saying. Her eyes and mouth would widen and her teeth would lengthen, her nails growing longer and serrated as she tap tap tap- ed on the nearest surface. Sam was fascinated by it, the inhuman aspect of her. She was wild and exotic, and Sam was drawn to her. 

What could he possibly do or give to show her how much she meant to him? To show his interest? Lucifer was an angel of action, perhaps he could perform a task for her? Or retrieve something she needed? Perhaps he could make something by hand?

Sam turned over the thoughts in his head until he fell into a deep sleep, coaxed along by soft, cold fingers soothing along his spine.

Kore was hollering .

On the inside.

Sam Fucking Winchester likes her, her ! How wild was that? She had truly not considered Sam in that sense before, her ambitions kept her mind busy and her days even busier. 

When she had heard Sam bring her up in conversation with the other Winchesters, she had been interested to hear how he described her. Dean weeding out that he liked her romantically within 5 minutes of talking to him, when she hadn’t noticed in two years of acquaintanceship, was a humbling surprise. She had watched as Sam’s soul quaked in their shared space, the lights flashing like fireworks across its crystalline surface, reflecting off all the cracks and crevasses enough to dazzle her. She had been stunned to silence, and witnessed as Sam’s soul expanded, the edges flaring out like tongues of flame, licking along the inside of their space. She had quickly doused it with herself, soothing along the tender edges of his soul until he calmed himself. 

She had been surprised at his confession, but even more surprised by how much the thought appealed to her. The idea of Sam courting her sent a spark of excitement through her Grace that reminded her of a schoolyard crush, of burning cheeks and bashful looks. 

Kore looked forward to seeing what Sam did to woo her, mind already turning over the possibilities. He had a habit of surprising her, and she expected that trend to continue. 

The next morning had Dean pounding on the door to their hotel room, yelling for them to get moving. Kore had spent the night with her mind in the clouds, turning over all the new possibilities that could come from her and Sam’s new relationship. 

Some would call it anxiety, but they were bastards. 

Sam got up and answered the door, Dean pushing past him with the other Sam on his heels. A large bag of food was thrown his way and Lucifer snickered at the disgust that rolled through Sam at the greasy smell. He peeked into the bag, seeing the shit diner food that he and Dean often ate he steeled himself to a texture/taste hell. A bone-white hand reaching over his shoulder interrupted that thought. Thin fingers twiddled over the food, red and white light dancing off the fingertips. The contents of the bag changed from a greasy burger and fries to a much more appetizing chicken wrap and side salad. 

Sam let out a breath of relief, pushing the feeling of his gratefulness towards her. Her Grace flicked through his hair before settling back in, her arm folding back into his body smoothly. He quickly settled into his wrap while the other two started talking. 

“Dad finally called, we’re meeting him in a town about a 2 days drive from here so let's get moving.” 

Dean was already halfway through his own greasy breakfast, a look of pure satisfaction on his face as he wiped his hands on his jeans. "We need to hit the road ASAP. If we push it, we can cut the drive down some. I don't want to keep Dad waiting any longer than we have to."

Other Sam nodded, finishing his coffee with a grimace. "Right. And he sounded pretty urgent on the phone. I’m guessing he wants to see the Colt himself."

Sam felt a pang of concern. The idea of dealing with the Yellow-Eyed Demon in this universe was daunting, he had already dealt with him once and didn’t look forward to the reprise. He swallowed a bite of his wrap, mulling over the best approach to handle the situation, all while feeling Luce's subtle presence in his mind, a constant source of both comfort and excitement. The hope that lingered beneath his breast swelled at the thought of her, tingles running down his palms. He rubbed his hands against his legs to quell the feeling. 

Sam fantasized about taking her out, treating her to a nice evening and getting her eyes to sparkle that one way that lights up her whole face. Maybe after- He quickly turned his attention outwards, feeling a spark of embarrassment at the flash of bare skin that intruded his mind. 

He thanked all his good graces once again that Luce could not hear his thoughts without intention. 

Dean and other Sam finished their food and the three hopped into the impala and took off. 

During the drive, Sam found his thoughts returning to Lucifer and their new situation. He knew he should focus on them getting home, but he couldn't help but think about her and everything he wanted to do to impress her. 

He kept replaying their last conversation in his mind, the way her voice had softened, the unexpected warmth in her tone. It was unlike the commanding, often imperious timbre he was used to. It was more personal, intimate even, and it stirred something deep within him.

The idea of impressing Lucifer seemed daunting. She was an ancient being with experiences spanning millennia, someone who had witnessed the rise and fall of empires and the birth and death of stars. What could a human—even one as battle-hardened and knowledgeable as Sam Winchester—offer that would genuinely capture her interest?

He felt so small in comparison some times, the enormity of her presence dwarfed the stars and made the sun seem dim, what did he have in comparison? A good aim and enough trauma baggage to throw your back out. 

But she liked him . It wasn't some other man holding her attention, no angel or demon or Nick that she called on. It was him she wanted, and that made a swelling, giddy feeling of satisfaction settle in his brain. 

 His thoughts returned to the challenge Lucifer had presented him. As an ancient celestial being, her existence spanned billions of years, far predating humanity. This realization sparked his curiosity about angelic customs. The Heavenly Host, he knew, operated within a culture as old as creation itself, likely rich with rituals and traditions that were alien to human understanding. Sam’s intrigue was tickled by the thought; he had always been fascinated by theology and mythology. It was the one part of hunting that he truly enjoyed. Researching and uncovering hidden knowledge had always made his mind buzz with excitement, and now it intertwined with his personal feelings.

Maybe that was one of the reasons he was drawn to Lucifer, she was a living library of the esoteric and the divine, a direct link to the ancient wisdom and mysteries of the universe. Her mind was not only vast but vibrant with innovative ideas; she faced the enigmas of the cosmos head-on, untangling them with a fearless and relentless spirit. Sam was inspired by her. 

Perhaps, Sam thought, delving into angelic culture could be the key to showing her his depth of interest and respect. When they returned to their dimension, Sam promised to scour Bobby’s books and the internet for information. He’d even pin down Cas, or hell, even Gabriel, to pick their brains. 

But this brought another thought, one that rang through his mind and inspired no small amount of anxiety. 

‘Lucifer?’ he prodded, pushing his thoughts towards the Archangel who was amusing herself in the back of his body with something. He had been hearing some odd clangs and dings that sounded suspiciously metallic, which brought a whole new amount of its own questions. Like how she was meddling with something while inside of him. 

‘Yes, Sam?’ she hummed in response, her Grace moving closer to the surface. 

‘ You have my body now.’ he stated, not sure how to phrase his question. 

‘I do,’ she hedged, leaving room for him to continue. 

‘What now? Is this the new normal? When we return to our dimension, will you continue your work while… in? me?’

 Do I have a choice? Is what he wanted to ask. 

Lucifer’s Grace trailed up his fingers, silvery-white tendrils of light that shone iridescent tangling around his digits and squeezing lightly.

‘ ...You are very comfortable Sam .’ she began softly, ‘ you were made for me, down to the atom you were constructed with the thought of me in mind. Each finger and toe, each strand of hair and nail, all fashioned to be the physical embodiment of Lucifer: the Morning Star. There is not an inch of you I do not relish the feel of.’

Sam felt his body jolt, a pang of arousal that lit up his nerves at the unexpected possessiveness Lucifer displayed. The double meaning of the words sent his imagination off; flashes of smooth, cool fingers touching him, gripping him where he wanted most.  

He shifted in his seat. 

But Lucifer continued talking. 

‘ There is a large part of me that greatly desires to take you, to keep you happy and burden free in a perfect dream in the Core of my Grace. You would never know any other than me. I would consume you in your entirety, you would never be free of me. ’ Her words were soft and dark, both a threat and a promise. Sam felt himself shiver, lust churning hot and heavy in body. His excitement had his legs and arms tingling, his fingers closing over the silvery tendrils and gripping them hard. 

Luce’s voice picked up, a tinge of something wild zapping across his skin where her Grace came close to the surface. ‘ You are mine, Sam. No demon, no angel, no god can rip you from my hold. I will tear asunder any beast or being who dare lay a hand on you. ’ 

‘ Each of your breaths resonates within my Grace. There isn't a part of you that doesn't call to me, a siren song that I am perpetually drawn to. I feel it, Sam—this irresistible pull that ties you to me, this bond that is eternal and unbreakable . ’ she growled.

With Grace that felt like the cool touch of night, her essence traced the lines of his face, a lover’s touch that was both claiming and cherishing. ‘I could sweep you away,’ she whispered in his ears, her voice a dark promise, ‘ to a place where only my voice would echo in your mind, where every beat of your heart would be a testament to my will, every breath a homage to my power over you .’

Sam’s heart beat like a drum in his throat, his whole body a live wire. He could feel his cock straining in his pants, and he fought not to grind his hips in hopes of pulling the fabric just so… 

He looked to the front, worried the other Sam and Dean would notice, but was surprised to see several bone white hands hovering over their eyes and ears. Lucifer was keeping their interaction private. 

‘ Imagine it, Sam—a realm where you exist solely for me, where every thought is shaped by my desires, every action born of my commands. You would be mine in every conceivable way, a devoted, cherished possession held within the sanctum of my Grace .’

Sam was breathing heavy, his whole body on fire. Ice-cold fingers traced along his neck and shoulders, like snow seeping under his skin. The frigid digits felt divine against his overheated flesh. 

‘ You are mine , ’ she stated once again, the conviction so strong in her voice Sam could never think of denying her. 

They both sat there for a long moment to calm down, Sam's heaving breaths the only sound between them. 

‘But that,’ she confessed finally, her tone shifting, ‘would not satisfy me—not completely. For as much as I crave to possess you, to claim every part of you as my own, I also desire your willing surrender, your eager consent to this bond we share. ’

Lucifer’s presence drew back slightly, allowing him space to breathe, to digest the weight of her confession. ‘I don’t just want a subject, Sam; I crave a companion, an equal who chooses me as fiercely as I choose him. My claim on you is absolute, yet it is your acceptance, your embrace of my dominion, that truly satiates my hunger. Your willing acceptance of my claim binds us.’

Her tendrils withdrew slightly, granting him a moment of respite, a chance to breathe in the heavy air laden with power and promise. ‘So, while I could envelop you in my essence, shield you from the world and keep you as my most treasured possession, I choose instead to stand by your side. To respect the man you are, and to forge a bond that is built not on coercion, but on mutual desire and deep, undeniable need .’ she purred. 

The darkness of the night seemed to deepen around him, the shadows of great wings folding close that brought the smell of icy glacial winds and the bitter iron of blood. In that moment, Sam realized the true depth of what was being offered: not just protection, but a profound partnership with a celestial being who could just as easily dominate as cherish. The thrill of that realization, the power and the danger, was intoxicating. 

An epiphany filled Sam with a potent mixture of awe and zeel. He realized that, perhaps without even intending to, he had managed to captivate one of the most enigmatic beings he had ever encountered. Lucifer’s attention and devotion weren't given lightly, and the fact that she held him in such regard was both humbling and immensely flattering.

He craved to return to favor.

‘ So when we return to our dimension…?’ he probed. 

‘I will no doubt return to my former vessel. I'm quite fond of it. But I may need your help in securing it, ’ she said. 

‘ Of course, what do you need?’ Sam offered eagerly.

‘There is a ritual, one of blood and devotion, if you participate I may be able to reinforce my chosen vessel to a point I will no longer worry about destroying it every day.’

‘What would that entail?’ he asked, intrigued. He felt a strong sense of satisfaction emanate from Lucifer, the emotion coating the sides of his tongue in a smooth, savory flavor. 

‘Some chanting, a good amount of blood. We would need to prepare to keep you from passing out. But my vessel will be able to contain me almost as good as you do, without the added bonus of your soul’s power boosting my abilities.’ 

‘And what after?’ he asked, ‘ what will become of us?’

Lucifer was quiet for a moment before speaking, her voice soft and full of promise. 

‘Whatever we want.’

Chapter Text

They drove straight for two days, each taking shifts to drive while the others slept. It was well into the early hours of the night when the group finally stopped to rest two days later, set to meet with John in the morning. The group pulled into a ratty motel off the side of the highway and checked in, each exhausted from the long trip. Sam kept scarce so as to not draw attention to them. Seeing two identical men walking around would no doubt draw some eyes. 

Sam was feeling especially awake, having done nothing but sit in the back on his phone or talk with Luce or the other Winchesters. His legs ached from being in the cramped backseat for the whole day and he itched to move around. 

Lucifer’s attention was far away, most of her arms fading at the end in a way that meant she was accessing dimensions he could neither see nor comprehend.

Sam seized an opportunity for some solitude, slipping away from the motel room under the guise of stretching his legs. The cool night air was refreshing, the quiet murmur of the highway a constant background noise as he walked. He found a deserted spot behind the motel, a patch of overgrown grass lit by a flickering street lamp, and started doing some light exercises to ease the stiffness in his muscles. 

He noticed with some initial alarm that his body was enhanced. 

As Sam stretched and began a series of push-ups, he felt an unexpected lightness in his movements. The usual strain in his arms and shoulders as he pushed against the earth was absent. Instead, his actions were met with a surprising ease, as if gravity had loosened its grip on him. With each push-up, he rose effortlessly, his muscles responding with a power he had not known before.

Curious and a bit alarmed, Sam transitioned into a sprint, taking off across the empty lot. His feet carried him faster than usual, his strides longer and more forceful. He stopped abruptly, turning on a dime with precision that felt both alien and exhilarating. A grin broke out on his face; this was not normal human ability.

"Guess this is what it feels like," Sam thought, a mix of amusement and awe filling him. He decided to push further, leaping onto a low wall nearby. He expected a typical effort, a reasonable jump, but instead, he soared over it with room to spare, landing smoothly on the other side. His heart raced, not from exertion but from the thrill of this newfound agility.

He laughed out loud, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet night. "Okay, this is kind of amazing," he admitted to himself, bending down to touch his toes, feeling no resistance from his body. Each movement was fluid, like water flowing seamlessly around rocks in a stream.

Testing his limits, Sam sprinted back and forth, reveling in the speed that his legs could achieve. He performed high jumps, backflips, and rapid directional changes, each more astonishing than the last. It was like being a superhero, if only temporarily.

After a few minutes of experimenting with his enhanced abilities, Sam slowed, breathing deeply, not from fatigue but to calm the exhilaration coursing through him. ‘ Lucifer, you've really outdone yourself ,’ he thought, hoping she could sense his appreciation even if she was preoccupied.

‘ Enjoy it, Sam ,’ came Lucifer's distant reply, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. ‘ It’s just a side effect of my presence, a temporary boon. ’

Sam nodded, taking a moment to appreciate the night sky above him. The stars seemed brighter, more numerous. He felt powerful, capable, and for a brief moment, utterly untouchable. It was a pleasant diversion from the weight of their current predicaments.

While Sam was lost in thought, a sudden noise snapped him back to reality. A rustling in the bushes nearby caught his attention. He tensed, every instinct on high alert. Slowly, he approached the source of the noise, his hand instinctively going for the knife he always carried.

Peering into the darkness, he saw a stray cat dart out, its eyes glinting briefly in the light before disappearing. He chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head at his own jumpiness. Just as he turned to head back, his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a message from the other Sam, asking if he was okay. He quickly typed back a reassurance, not wanting to worry him.

Returning to the room, he found Dean sprawled on one bed, lightly snoring. The other Sam was still awake, his eyes glued to a book. "Couldn't sleep?" Sam asked quietly, not wanting to disturb Dean.

The other Sam looked up, a smile flickering across his face. "Nah, just catching up on some lore. Found a lead on a case we might check out after this Yellow-Eyed Demon business is dealt with." He gestured to the book, filled with scribbled notes and dog-eared pages.

Sam nodded, settling onto his bed with a thoughtful expression. He pulled out his own notebook, a gift from Lucifer that was etched with intricate symbols for privacy and longevity. The leather front was stamped with a scale pattern, small runes etched into each scute. It felt like the right moment to jot down some thoughts and maybe sketch out ideas on how to further impress Lucifer. As he wrote, his mind wandered to the possibilities and challenges ahead, his pen moving rhythmically across the paper, translating his thoughts into words and drawings.

Sam’s pen traced the edge of a sharp jawline, darkening the shadows there. 

He wondered about what lay ahead with John, how he would explain his presence without revealing too much, and how to navigate the dynamics of this other universe. The weight of their mission and his personal entanglements with Lucifer made for a heavy mix, but Sam felt ready to face whatever came next with a determined resolve.

The pen scratched across the paper, giving definition to eyebrows and long, delicate looking lashes. 

‘Sam,’ Lucifer’s voice whispered in his mind, tinged with excitement.

Sam flipped the journal shut. 

‘ What's up? ’ he thought back. 

‘ I have found something that might interest you not far from here, ’ she said, sounding pleased with herself, ‘ would you like to go see? ’ Sam’s interest was piqued. 

With an affirmation, Lucifer changed their positions, taking control as Sam rested in the back of their shared vessel. 

Standing up, she bid the other Sam goodnight and left the room. Outside, she spread her wings and took off, flying them to a remote area about 30 miles from their hotel. They landed among a rocky outcropping, heavily covered in greenery. They shifted through the underbrush, their form easily passing through without damage to either. 

There lay a very small series of cave openings, each a deep crevice into the earth that grew narrow and jagged the farther down Sam could see. This did not seem to deter Lucifer, who jumped into one of the openings without a moment’s hesitation. 

If Sam had control of his bodily functions, his nuts would be in his throat at the rate at which they dropped. He knew Lucifer would catch them, of course, but he had hardly expected to go feet first into cave spelunking. 

Lucifer’s Grace moved them through the cave’s dips and turns, their feet barely brushing the ground as large white arms carried them around stalactites that hung from the ceiling like ancient chandeliers, dripping slowly over millennia to form the stalagmites that littered the cave floor. As they ventured deeper, the light from the cave’s entrance dimmed to nothing, leaving Lucifer’s arms and wings as the only source of light to the cave surrounding them. 

The air grew hotter and more humid, the air heavy with the sent minerals and damp earth. Tiny glittering stones began to appear embedded in the walls.They grew in size as they descended further, their colors ranging from translucent to deep, vibrant hues; each one caught the light from Lucifer’s intangible wings and scattered it throughout the cavern in a kaleidoscope of colors that dazzled Sam’s vision. 

Pools of water collected on the floor, crystals covering the bottoms like sharp jagged teeth, their sharp tips barely skipping the surface. 

‘ This is beautiful, ’ Sam breathed out, feeling Lucifer’s cool Grace against his front. 

“Just wait, Sam. It gets better,” Luce said in his own voice. Moving around another bed, Sam was greeted with the sight of another large underwater pool, this one boiling ominously. The large arms that extended from their back carried them closer, placing them directly over the pool before lowering them into it. 

Sam waited for the sharp pain from the heat, but none came. The water was lukewarm, at best.

Luce, sensing his confusion, spoke. ‘ I am very durable, no harm will come to us through natural means. ’

As they descended into the warm waters, the luminous glow from Lucifer's wings revealed an underwater world unlike any other. The cave beneath the water was even more expansive, filled with towering crystal formations that dwarfed them in size. These crystals, larger than human figures, shimmered in Lucifer’s ethereal light, casting vibrant reflections that danced on the cave's wet walls.

They suck deeper, the heat increasing from the geothermal activity that contributed to the growth of these magnificent crystals. Despite the rising temperatures, the water remained a soothing contrast, its temperature perfectly moderated by Lucifer's grace.

They moved silently through the space, Lucifer's form shifting gracefully, her many arms navigating the submerged landscape with an ease that spoke of her otherworldly nature. Each movement stirred the water around them, sending ripples that made the light dance even more wildly.

As they rounded a particularly large crystal, the cavern opened up into a vast chamber. The ceiling was lost to darkness above, but below, the floor was a mosaic of crystals and mineral deposits that glowed under Lucifer's light like a starlit sky. In the center of the chamber, a massive crystal formation rose like a monolith, its surfaces rough yet sparkling with a thousand points of light.

“This place,” Lucifer's voice echoed softly, filled with a reverence that Sam rarely heard from her. “It's untouched by man, shaped only by the earth and time itself. It's pure, uncorrupted.”

Sam felt a profound sense of awe as he looked around. The beauty of the place was overwhelming, and the fact that he was seeing it with Lucifer, sharing this moment, made it all the more special. He could feel her presence enveloping him, her Grace folding around his soul and bringing it closer to the surface so he could have a chance to explore this subterranean marvel.

‘ It's like a cathedral, ’ he murmured.

“Yes,” Lucifer agreed, her tone soft yet carrying through the water and stone. “A cathedral built by nature itself. And like all sacred places, it holds power. Power that is ancient and deep. Angels would come to places like this to pray or seek Revelation.”

‘S eek Revelation? ’

“An ancient rite, one of peace and knowledge. In moments of unrest or sadness, angels would seclude themselves to meditate on the matter. We go into a state of pure reflection, our Grace merging with the universe around us as we seek answers to our personal problems or conflicts.”

Sam absorbed the concept, intrigued by the notion of celestial beings finding solace in nature's sanctuaries. The idea of angels, often perceived as mighty and unyielding, seeking guidance through quiet contemplation, humanized them in his eyes. 

‘ That sounds... peaceful ,’ Sam said. He watched as the light from Lucifer's form caught in the countless facets of the crystals, turning them into a brilliant display of dancing colors. ‘ Have you ever done it? Sought Revelation? ’

Lucifer paused, her form still in the water, the glow from her feathers casting serene patterns around them. "I have," she admitted, her voice taking on a reflective quality. "Long ago, before the fall, before the conflicts that would define so much of my existence. I came to places like this to find clarity and purpose. It's a practice lost to many of my kind now, but it was once a cherished tradition."

Sam could feel the nostalgia in her Grace, a longing for times simpler yet profoundly significant that sat on the top of his tongue like dark coffee. It was a rare glimpse into her past, one that painted her not just as a warrior or a leader, but as a seeker of wisdom.

‘Could you... would you show me? ’ Sam asked hesitantly, his curiosity piqued. ‘ How to seek Revelation? ’

Lucifer’s Grace hummed sharply around him, unreadable for a moment before softening. "It is not a ritual meant for humans," she started, her voice gentle. "But you are not just any human, are you, Sam Winchester?"

They floated there for a while, suspended in the warm water, surrounded by the glow of crystals and the weight of centuries. It was a moment out of time, a pause in the endless dance of the universe where only they existed.

 She continued. "Very well. It requires stillness, a quiet of the mind that few achieve without considerable practice."

Luce guided their shared body to a flat space beside the large crystal monolith, the surface smooth and reflecting the light with a soft glow. She gently floated them into a sitting position, their back resting on the large crystal. Every so gently, she handed over the reins, allowing Sam to control their body. Sam only wondered a moment about the air he was breathing underwater before Lucifer continued. 

‘ Close your eyes, ’ she instructed, ‘ relax your body, and let your mind empty of all thoughts. Focus only on the sensations around you—the cool touch of the water, the warmth emanating from the rocks, the sounds of moving water around you. ’

Sam did as she instructed, settling back into crystal. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and gradually let the ambient sounds and sensations of the cave envelop him. The distant drip of water from the surface, the subtle warmth from the geothermal heat, the slight current of the pool nudging against him.

Lucifer's presence hovered along the edges, a comforting cool touch that helped guide his mind toward stillness. Her Grace brushed against his soul, not intruding but offering a gentle nudge towards the peace he sought.

‘ Lean into the weight of the water, relax into the current and warmth, feel the thrum of the earth turning beneath us, ’ Lucifer whispered, her voice both in the cave and in his mind. ‘ Feel the age of the earth, the slow, patient growth of the crystals, the endless cycle of water carving its path. Reach out with your soul, not your thoughts. ’

As Sam's mental chatter quieted, a profound tranquility settled over him. He sank down, down into the floor and beneath the earth, riding on currents of energy and heat as he explored the enormity of the Earth. Water rushed past his fingers and fire curled along his heart, his body folding down into the earth as the air brushed past his parted lips. 

He was all and he was nothing.

It was unlike meditation or prayer; it was a deeper, more intrinsic connection to the world around him. Riding on the trails of grace he searched and he saw . 

Larger than Jupiter, more beautiful than the stars. 

The experience was transformative. When he finally opened his eyes, the cave seemed different—as if he was seeing it not just with his eyes but with a new understanding. He felt the very growth of the crystals, the movement of magma underneath them, the water bubbling and flowing around them. He knew them like he knew old friends, as if he had seen the cave from the first drip of water that began it. 

He wondered if this was how Lucifer felt all the time. It was easy to see why she was so passionate about her plans, if she felt this… deeply all the time. 

"This," Sam breathed out, his voice filled with wonder, "this is incredible."

Lucifer hummed, her pleasure pressing along his sides in something akin to contentment. ‘ It is Revelation, Sam. Not just of knowledge, but of being part of something greater. This is how angels find peace. ’

‘ I wanted you to see this, Sam,’ Lucifer continued, her voice a gentle caress against his mind. ‘ To share something truly awe-inspiring with you. Something not of battle or strategy, but of beauty and peace . This is what I hope to inspire in our world. ’

Sam felt his heart jump in his chest. Here, in this hidden sanctum of the earth, he saw a different side of Lucifer, one that cherished the beauty of creation, that revered the sanctity of untouched places.

And as they resurfaced and left the warmth of the crystal cavern behind, Sam carried with him a new respect and understanding, not just of Lucifer, but of the Earth they were fighting to protect.

As the three humans and their angelic passenger rolled along the dusty outskirts of the small town where they were to meet John, the atmosphere in the Impala grew tense. Dean drove with a stern focus, while Other Sam fiddled nervously with the edge of the map. Sam felt a mix of anticipation and unease—meeting John in this universe wasn’t something he looked forward to. 

On one hand it was his dad , who died suddenly without a chance to say goodbye. Him and Dean had barely any time to mourn, too close to the end to slow down and take a moment. He missed him, regardless of their shaky standing Sam loved his dad to the end. 

On the other hand…

John was waiting for them at an old, rundown diner that looked like it hadn't seen a renovation since the '70s. His posture was rigid, his eyes sharp as they settled on the Impala pulling into the lot. He recognized the car first, then his sons as they stepped out, but his gaze lingered on Sam with a wary sharpness that set Sam on edge.

"Boys," John's voice was gruff, a guarded warning underlying his greeting as he hugged Dean and Other Sam. His eyes, however, quickly shifted back to Sam, studying him as if trying to read an unfamiliar script.

"This is Sam too, huh?" John finally said, his tone carrying a hint of suspicion. "You look just like my boy but... there’s something off about you."

Dean was quick to intervene, "Yeah, he’s from that another dimension, Dad. Like I said over the phone, it’s a long story, but he’s good. He's been helping us a lot."

John's skepticism didn't wane. "Another dimension," he muttered, almost to himself, then fixed Sam with a pointed look. "And what brings you here exactly? This isn’t some sightseeing tour."

Sam stepped forward, feeling the weight of Lucifer's silent vigilance in his mind. "I'm here because I got caught in a mess involving a relic that threw me into your world. I'm trying to find a way back, but I've also learned that our enemies are the same across dimensions. I can help you with the Yellow-Eyed Demon."

John’s expression hardened at the mention of the demon, his jaw clenching visibly. "Dean said you gave them the Colt.”

Sam glanced at Dean and Other Sam, receiving a nod of encouragement from both. He slowly pulled the Colt out from his jacket and laid it gently on the hood of the Impala. The sunlight caught the metallic sheen, drawing a sharp breath from John.

"That’s it," John whispered, reverence mixed with disbelief in his voice as he reached out to touch the legendary gun. "You actually got it."

"Yes, sir," Sam replied, watching John's hardened features soften slightly with awe. "And I know it can kill the demon. We can stop him, once and for all."

John’s gaze shifted between the Colt and Sam, the suspicion slowly receding as he considered the implications. "If what you say is true," he began, his voice low, "then you might just be the best chance we've got."

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the diner, with Sam sharing what he knew about the Yellow-Eyed Demon's movements and tactics. John listened intently, his initial suspicion giving way to a grudging respect as Sam detailed their shared enemy's vulnerabilities and past mistakes. The hard edge, however, never left his eye, and it set Sam on edge himself. 

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the worn-out booths of the diner, John finally nodded, the plan solidifying in his mind. 

"We'll draw Azazel into a devil's trap and I’ll end this with the Colt," he declared, his voice carrying a mix of resolve and anticipation.

The group nodded in agreement, and soon they were loading up to head to an old warehouse on the outskirts of town—a place John had scouted earlier. The building was decrepit, with rusted shutters and a sagging roof, but it was secluded and structurally sound enough for their needs.

Under the dim glow of flashlights, they began the meticulous process of preparing the trap. Dean and other Sam worked on drawing the devil’s trap, the complex sigil marked out on the dusty concrete floor in red spray paint. John supervised, occasionally adjusting their lines to perfection.

Sam, meanwhile, was tasked with warding the building. With Lucifer’s guidance, he moved around the perimeter, chanting softly under his breath as he placed sigils of protection on the walls, each mark glowing faintly with a shimmering light as his paint traced them. ‘ Make sure the lines are unbroken, and use your will to enforce them,’ Lucifer instructed, her voice humming in the back of his mind. 

One of her smaller hands came over and gently rested over his, guiding his movements as he mapped out a tricky sigil. She whispered soft praises in his ears, making his hair stand on end and goosebumps crawl up his arms. Her grace flitted across the floor, glowing tendrils of power mapping out lines for him to trace over with his spray paint as he slowly worked his way back to the alternate Winchesters. 

Dean whistled as they surveyed Sam’s work, the intricate and scrawling sigils climbing up the walls and across the floor from every side, encircling their devil’s trap in an elaborate web of containment spells. “Damn, man. Where you holdin’ it?” Sam gave a sheepish smile in response. 

The group took their positions, John at the front with Dean and other Sam on one side, Sam on the other. The group were ready with additional iron and salt rounds in case shit hit the fan. 

Sam quickly began to chant, coaxing latin words that would grip the demon tightly and bring him here. Azazel manifested quickly, snarling at the unexpected and violent summons. He spotted the three Winchesters quickly, a smooth smile sliding onto his face. 

“Ohh, my favorite hunters. Found me out so quickly didn’t you?” he began to goad the three, humming and hawing about destinies and deals. He picked apart the three as John gritted his teeth. Even though he was aware of the bastard’s plans, Sam could see the seething hatred that was gathering on the man’s face. 

Then Azazel turned more towards John, finally noticing Sam to the other side. His eyes narrowed, a calculating look replacing his initial scorn. As his demonic senses stretched out, probing, he suddenly stilled, a flicker of recognition—then reverence—crossing his features. "How-" he breathed, a mix of surprise and deference surfacing as he sensed the ancient, celestial energy of Lucifer mingling with Sam's essence.

It was at this critical moment, just as Azazel began to piece together the implications, that John took his shot. The crack of the Colt resounded like thunder, reverberating off the warehouse walls. Azazel was hit squarely in the chest, his form beginning to disintegrate into ash, his last expression one of shocked realization. As the demon's form disappeared, the ashes swirling in the dim light, a heavy silence descended. It was broken only by John's harsh, labored breathing, his figure still rigid in a shooting stance.

John's eyes were hard, his face a mask of grim determination as he watched the demon fade away. It was the brief exchange, the subtle recognition and reverence in Azazel's gaze towards Sam, but John had seen it all. His attention snapped to Sam with a new, cold intensity.

The Colt, still hot from the shot that ended Azazel, was now pointed directly at Sam. The man’s stance was aggressive, his body language leaving no room for doubt—he was on the edge, ready to eliminate any threat, even if it looked like his own son.

"What the hell are you?" John's voice was low and dangerous, the words hissed out between clenched teeth. "That thing knew you. It respected you. You’re not my son. What are you!?"

Sam, despite the protective presence of Lucifer within, felt a chill run down his spine. Dean stepped forward, trying to intervene, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Dad, what are you—"

"No, Dean!" John barked, cutting him off sharply. His finger tightened on the trigger, his eyes never leaving Sam. "This... thing isn't Sam. It’s something else, something wrong . I can see it now, the way that demon looked at him. He knew him." 

Lucifer’s presence within Sam stirred, a whisper of warning that threaded through his mind. Sam felt his anxiety spike, knowing the weapon in John’s hand could end Lucifer as well as him. 

Sam raised his hands slowly, showing he meant no threat, his voice calm but firm as he tried to defuse the situation. "Listen, I understand this looks bad, but I am Sam. I’m just not from this world. I—"

"Shut up!" John's voice echoed through the warehouse, sharp and ragged with fear. His gaze never left Sam. "You're just some monster wearing my son's face.”

“Dad-” the other Sam tried to cut in, pain etched into his face as he stared at his reflection in Sam. John cut him off, too.

"I saw you last night," John stated coldly, his accusation hanging in the air like a guillotine blade. Sam's heart skipped a beat, his mind racing as he processed the implications. He had been seen, his enhanced abilities exposed under the watchful eyes of a man who had always been quick to suspicion and slow to trust.

"You're not natural," John continued, his voice a low rumble of contained rage. "No human moves like that—like some... some monster ."

Sam felt a spike of alarm, his mind racing. ' What do we do?! ' he called out to Lucifer, aware of the mounting danger. He could sense her anger, a tempest swirling within her Grace, sparked by John's accusation. It zinged through her essence, a raw nerve touched, mirroring the betrayal of her own father.

How dare he

How dare He

The tension in the air was palpable, a charged silence that could shatter at any moment. John's hand trembled slightly, the fingers curled around the Colt twitching as if on a hair trigger, poised on the brink of irreversible action. The weight of Lucifer's anger thickened the air, an oppressive force that seemed to make the very atmosphere in the room heavier, charging it with a static of impending disaster.

Sam moved, a slight shift, intending to speak, to somehow calm the escalating situation. "Dad, please—" His voice was a strained whisper, barely audible over the deafening beat of his own heart.

It was too much. The slight movement, the soft plea—John's finger jerked in response. The gunshot was deafening, a sharp, brutal crack that split the tense silence like a hammer through glass. 

The bullet struck Sam square in the forehead. A blinding, searing pain exploded through his skull, white-hot and all-consuming. His vision whited out, the world dissolving into a blinding haze of agony and shock.

Dean and the other Sam's shouts faded into a distant, muffled background noise, drowned out by the sudden, terrifying stillness that followed the thunderous report of the Colt.

Suddenly, an acid pain ranked up his body like a wave. It ate at his soul, chewing away at his insides and devoiding him of all thoughts other than Pain PAIN PAIN!!

Sam’s breath choked in his throat, his body seizing as he toppled over backwards with the momentum of the shot.

His world went dark, with nothing but Lucifer’s bellow of rage ringing in his ears. 

Chapter Text

John Winchester’s body was a smear on the floor when Sam regained consciousness. Bits of him hung from the rafters, the pieces so mutilated Sam could not identify what part of the body they belonged to. Shards of bone littered the red, sludgy pulp, with scraps of cloth there and there. The other Sam and Dean were nowhere to be seen, but the mess of gore was nowhere near the amount of three men, so he assumed they had ran off. 

Lucifer sat suspiciously quiet in the back of his head, barely acknowledging him as he probed at her. She only huffed and settled down deeper, her grace giving him a distinct impression of someone irascibly crossing their arms. Her wings gave a sharp snap, and Sam backed off. 

Sam knew without a fraction of doubt that Lucifer had killed John Winchester. A large part of him felt terribly guilty for being relieved it wasn’t the other way around. 

Sam sat up slowly, his head pounding with a residual ache from his recent head trauma, yet strangely, there was no wound. He touched his forehead tentatively, half-expecting to find blood or an open gash, but there was nothing. Just smooth skin. The horror of the moment he was shot was still vivid in his mind, the pain so real and sharp he could almost feel it echoing inside his skull. But Lucifer had done something—shielded him, healed him instantaneously, or something even more profound. 

‘ Lucifer, how are we alive? ’ he asked again, unsurprised when she did not respond. 

His eyes scanned the gruesome scene again, a bitter taste rising in his throat. John Winchester, or the bits and remnants of him, were scattered grotesquely around the warehouse. The violence of his death was unlike anything Sam had ever seen, even in his many years of hunting. It was personal, furious, and devastatingly thorough. Lucifer's rage had left a mark so violent, so definitive, that it sent chills down his spine.

Despite the carnage, Sam was still worried about the safety of the other Sam and Dean. He staggered to his feet, using a nearby wall for support as he regained his balance. His legs felt shaky, shock from the whole ordeal stealing his coordination for a moment. 

"Dean? Sam?" he called out tentatively, his voice echoing slightly in the large, empty space. There was no response; just the eerie sound of his own voice bouncing back at him. They had obviously taken the chance to escape, possibly even to regroup and figure out what to do about him—about the entity within him that had just committed a murder in such a horrific manner.

He needed to find them, to explain, to make sure they were safe. But first, he had to deal with the immediate aftermath. He couldn't leave John— what was left of him —like this. It was grotesque, disrespectful, and it pained him to see the man who had raised him, albeit imperfectly, reduced to nothing more than debris. He deserved a hunter’s funeral at least. 

With heavy steps, Sam began the grim task of gathering the remains. Each piece he picked up, a memory flashed—hunting lessons, the weight of a father's expectations, the stinging disappointment, and rare, grudging praise. He worked silently, methodically, the act of collecting John Winchester's shattered body serving as a brutal reminder of the destructive force Lucifer could wield. All the while, her silence in the back of his mind was a cold void where he had hoped for some semblance of regret or explanation. Sam tried not to gag as he bagged up what was probably bowels.

Once he had gathered what he could, Sam found some old cloth and gently wrapped the remains. It wasn't much, but it was something.

A small scrap of decency for a man that had just shot his own son in the head.

A sharp sting zapped Sam in the chest at the reminder. 

Finally, Sam stood back, looking at the makeshift shroud. His thoughts turned inward, probing at Lucifer, seeking answers or at least acknowledgment.

‘ Why? ’ he whispered internally, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. ‘ Why did you do it? ’

Lucifer’s presence, which had been quiet in her brooding silence, stirred slightly. Her voice, when it came, was icy and distant, a stark contrast to the fury that had unleashed such violence.

‘ You know exactly why. He was going to kill you, Sam. He didn’t even hesitate before he went to shoot. ’

‘ I’m not his son, it’s not the same.’

‘ Isn’t it? ’ Lucifer’s razor sharp tongue clicked. ‘ Tell me Sam, was it or was it not your father who commanded Dean to execute you should you turn out to be a monster ? ’

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat, the memory of his own father's contingency plan—a command to Dean that had haunted him—suddenly casting John's actions in a stark, unforgiving light. "That was different," he muttered out loud, but even to his own ears, it sounded feeble.

Lucifer's grace swirled around him, cold and relentless. ‘ Different? Because it was your John who gave the order? Because he didn’t pull the trigger himself? Or because you still see some line between what he was willing to do and what this John did? ’ Her voice was relentless, drilling into the core of him.

Sam felt the walls he had built around those old wounds crack. “No,” he whispered, “because I wanted to believe he’d change his mind. That he’d see me and not the monster he was scared I’d become.”

‘ Exactly ,’ Lucifer’s voice softened slightly, but it carried an edge, a sharpness that was honed by centuries of being misunderstood and maligned. ‘ John saw a threat in you, one he decided to eliminate without hesitation. I acted to protect you, Sam. ’ 

Sam sat there, feeling hollow and hurt, but ultimately grateful. He didn’t want to die here. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. Lucifer stirred in his body, slowly coaxing his soul down and into the cool embrace of her Grace. 

‘ Let me handle things from here, Sam .’ she persuaded, gently shifting herself to the front to take over. 

‘ The other two are gone,’ Sam signed unhappily in their shared mind , ‘they won't help us after this. We’ll have to find another way home .’

Lucifer scoffed, her voice low and rough, “They made a deal with us, Sam. We delivered. Now they will.” she smoothed down her lapel, brushing down the smooth white fabric of her suit. 

“Don't worry, I have no plans to harm them. The Colt was destroyed so I doubt they would try anything like that again.” Sensing Sam’s hesitance, she continued. 

“We need to get home, Sam.”

‘I know, just… be nice? ’

“I have been being “ nice ”” she huffed, using her fingers to quote. “It’s hardly my fault if others cannot be the same.”

Kore found them quickly. 

She followed the road, and then circled the area, following major and minor streets until she spotted the sleek hood of the impala. It was driving at break-neck speed down a backstreet. 

She went into a steep dive, landing with a hard, earth-shattering thud several hundred yards in front of them, cracking the pavement and sending asphalt flying. The impala screeched to a halt, stopping a dozen feet in front of her, its wheels smoking. The two humans inside stared at her with wide eyes, fear and fury a good mix in each. 

She stood before them and let them drink in Sam’s altered appearance, seeing the suspense fill their faces at each notable difference. A wave of her hand opened the impala’s doors, a clear command for them to get out. The two hesitated, slowly stepping out, their eyes never leaving her. They crept around the doors, leaving them open behind them.

“What the fuck are you,” the other Dean bit out after a long moment, his green eyes boring holes into her red ones. 

“I am Luce, Sam told you about me.” she said calmly.

“Yeah, the technophile,” Other Sam snipped.

“And also an angel,” she continued smoothly. 

Dean scoffed, “Lier, angels don’t-” he choked on his words, not willing to admit John's death aloud yet. “Angels don't go around murdering-”

“Read the Bible.” Kore snapped. 

The two struggled for a moment, looking back at each other and conversing with their eyes. They turned back to her,

“What do you want?” Dean finally said, sounding defeated. “The Colt didn’t kill you, I doubt anything we have could either.”

“For you to make good on your half of the deal.” 

“ We made no- ”

“The Colt, for a look at Sam’s soul.” Kore interrupted, “ Now .” The two brothers shuddered, the command in her voice holding a fraction the weight of her celestial power. 

Dean clenched his jaw, his fists tightening as he prepared to fight. Other Sam stepped forward, cutting the tension. 

“John shot first.” he offered quietly to Dean’s admonishing look. “He shot him, Dean.”

“He wasn’t wrong . ” Dean bit out, looking venomously at Kore. Other Sam gave him a pained look. 

“What if it was me, Dean?” he said quietly. “He.. he wouldn’t hear him out, no explanations, nothing.”

“And look what he did!”

“He tried to kill him for simply being a monster; he gave us yellow eyes and showed no reason to hurt us and Dad didn’t care .”

Dean’s eyes darted between his brother and Luce, wrestling with his conscience and John's actions. His stance softened, the rigidity of his anger giving way to fatigue.

“I know,” Dean finally conceded, his voice low, carrying a weariness that seemed to age him in moments. “I know, Sam, but this—” he gestured vaguely towards Kore, his distrust palpable, “—this is not simple. We’re talking about an angel, man. And not just any angel, one that...”

“That protected him,” Other Sam interjected, his tone insistent. “Luce saved his life, Dean. We can’t just ignore that.” he turned to her. “Ok, let's do this.”

Kore felt her lips twitch into a smile, this was one of the reasons she liked him. 

Dean only put up a little more protest as she stepped closer, coming toe to toe with the younger version of Sam. He was noticeably shorter than them, still hovering just around Dean’s height. His stance was confidant and closed off, but his eyes held a spark of intrigue. 

She reached out and placed the tips of her fingers on his sternum. 

“Are you ready?” she asked

Other Sam nodded, “Yes.” 

Lucifer dug her nails into the flesh of his chest, the skin parting around her fingers smoothly. Other Sam gasped at the initial sting, but Kore was very gentle; she knew the inner workings of Sam’s body and soul. His presence was a compliment to her in any universe, this one was no different. 

Her grace scanned along his soul, noting the differences in their appearance compared to her Sam. This younger Sam had a lot less cracks than hers, but one was larger and fresh, slashed across his chest like a gaping wound. The large scar crossed out the silhouette of a young woman, who Kore guessed to be Jess. 

Her Sam had a similar scar, but it was much more shallow: time healing his soul as he recovered from her violent passing. 

She analyzed his soul, listening to the frequency on which it resonated. It buzzed along her grace, singing the song of its existence that she leaned close to hear. It sounded almost exactly like her Sam’s, a melody she knew by heart, its existence sung to her every moment in Creation. Except there was a small difference, so subtle and quiet. Like a single singer in a choir changing octaves.

Kore isolated the difference, spinning of a strain of the frequency and twining in around her fingers. She pulled back, her hand reemerging from other Sam’s sternum. So immersed in Sam’s soul, it was simple to find the frequency of their home universe among the song. 

Kore felt a surge of satisfaction at their success. 

Other Sam rubbed his chest, a queer look on his face. “What now?” he asked hesitantly.

“Now we leave this world,” she hummed, “Sam has prepared you for what is to come, remember the key to your survival is each other. Do not let them break you. And whatever you do…” Her eyes bore holes into other Sam’s, her gaze hardening. 

“Do not say: Yes.”

Kore stood in the open field, her hands outspread as she chanted her spell. She wrapped the frequency of her universe into her voice, envoking a passage from one world to the next. 

She watched as the tendril of power writhed in the air before sharply jabbing to one side, its pointed end swimming to puncture the very air with a defining CRACK , sinking out of sight. A gash opened into the void, air rushing past her to fill the endless space. Kore pulled herself down within Sam, folding down her Grace until it hovered just along Sam’s skin, keeping them as hidden as possible. With a deep, steadying breath, Kore ran for the rip and jumped through. 

The Empty was as she remembered it, an endless void of darkness that even her Father’s grace could not touch. It was colder than her and a relentless wind whipped past. 

She kept their course straight and true, and it was only a few minutes before she felt a humm of something familiar in front of her. 

But something stirred in the darkness, awakened by their presence. There was a soft call in the distance, like an angry roar dimmed by miles. But here, in the din of the Empty, it echoed . Kore’s many eyes scanned their surroundings frantically, her hackles raising at the haunting sound.

The subtle light emanating off her form caught on something as it whipped towards her, a flash of needle teeth and empty sockets before a malformed appendage grasped at their leg. Its grip was frigid and strong, and Kore felt horror as it began to sink beneath the skin of her vessel and grab onto her . 

 Its touch sent electricity up her spine, a dead cold seeping into her Grace and numbing it . With a quick movement, her grace sliced the appendage, sending it flying back into the void, its mouth open in a silent scream as it disappeared. Her Grace ached where it had held on, the numbed grace slowly restoring itself. 

Its touch was so foreign, so Other . 

She had only a scant few moments before more appeared, their forms emerging from the darkness like living shadows, the light of her Grace reflecting off their inky, oozing forms. They came from all sides, above, and below. Their claws and gaping mouths yanked at them, throwing them this way and that and knocking them far off course. Kore screamed in frustration, her grace surging along their form and knocking the majority of the creatures off. Her grace was her weapon as she sliced through them, tearing through a dozen only for a dozen more to reappear. 

They gripped onto her wings, their ooze slowly coating their pristine feathers and rendering the appendages useless. It didn’t hurt, but it was so so cold . Lethargy began to tug at her mind and body, an alarming feeling for an ever-alert angel. 

She fought more, slashed more, desperately fending off the grasping hands and curling tendrils. 

Their universe’s presence was long gone, but Lucifer’s brain was smooth and silent. 

Her world was made of tissue paper and twigs, and her strength was always restrained in an effort to preserve it.

But here, trapped in the endless void of the Empty, with the beautiful power of Sam’s soul warming her back, Lucifer didn’t have to be so careful anymore.

It was cathartic. 

Her Grace lit up the empty like cracks of lighting in a storm cloud, highlighting the endless hordes of creatures that made up the Empty. They sought to suffocate her, to consume her in their endless shadows and ooze and bring her into a cold, eternal slumber. It sounded peaceful. 

But she would not go quietly. 

As the creatures closed in, their forms a relentless tide of darkness, Lucifer fought back with a wild, unrestrained power that she rarely allowed herself to unleash. Each strike of her light against the shadowy forms was a release of centuries of restraint and a declaration of her defiance.

The Empty, an expanse that muted all but the most primordial energies, resonated with the impact of her assaults. The light from her Grace did not just illuminate; it seared, tearing through the darkness with the intensity of a star gone supernova. The shadows writhed and recoiled with each burst of her luminous fury, their forms disintegrating under the purity of her celestial might.

But she was just one archangel in the hands of the Empty, a space even her Father avoided. 

Lucifer raged; The idea of slipping into a cold, eternal slumber within the suffocating grasp of the Empty was frightening to her. She could not yield to the darkness, not when she had fought so hard to carve her own path, to define her existence outside the expectations and strictures set upon her. She would not leave Gabriel to take her place. 

No sound carried through the void of the empty, so her battle was one of weightlessness and silence, the void swallowing all sound. 

They fell like flies before her, her grace powerful and destroying. But these creatures seemed to manifest from the Empty itself in an overwhelming number, their icy grips slipping past her defense to numb her Grace and weaken her. 

Lucifer cast her senses outwards, looking for any sign of another universe, a few faint frequencies pinging on her radar. A hundred arms reached out and snagged onto different creatures, ripping and tearing at them as she used them as anchors to navigate the weightless space. She carved a path towards the closest universe frequency, using her grace as a drill to make her way through the pressing hordes. 

The creatures seemed to sense her intent and instead of seizing and seeping into her Grace, they began to grab at her in earnest, pulling her back. They snagged her wings, an arm, a horn, yanking her hard in the opposite direction. 

With alarm, she felt herself begin to separate from Sam, the creatures’ grip on her Grace peeling her from her vessel like a mear specter ripped from its host. Lucifer roared in dismay, gripping to Sam tightly and pushing her way forward, racing towards the closest universe. 

The thread that held Sam and Lucifer together began to sever. 

In a last, desperate attempt to escape, she launched Sam ahead of her in a needle-thin capsule of grace, using his soul to power what was essentially a battering ram of her power. It tore a clear path through the hoard, shooting forward at incredible speed and power. It dragged Lucifer behind it like a kite, the parting of the hoard closing just behind her. A loud CRACK echoed through the void as the capsule ripped through the lining of the new universe. The huge energy disturbance was the last bit needed to sever her connection to Sam, leaving her, once again, without a vessel. 

Keeping the momentum strong, Lucifer dove into the new universe, another loud sharp CRACK vibrating throughout the empty space behind her, echoed by the haunting sound of a distant roar.

Chapter Text

AU#2 OCTOBER 2009

Larger than Jupiter, an eldritch being that shone brighter than the stars ripped its way into the universe, tearing a hole in the fabric of space and time as it shoved its way inside. Black ooze rained from its body like a diseased storm cloud as it whipped its body to-and-fro, dislodging large, inky creatures. 

Kore caught herself quickly, snapping out her wings to even her freefall. She pulled her aura close, cloaking it as heavily as she could as she felt the fabric of this world tremble at her violent arrival. 

Her Grace shuddered; a freezing cold had seeped into her body, sinking down and brushing along the core of her Grace. She felt lethargic still, her Grace sluggish and tired. Black ooze and smoke made its way out of her mouths, the creatures having come within biting distance more than a few times. 

The rip repaired itself behind her quickly, hiding snarling teeth and empty sockets.

Kore took stock of this new universe; she was on Earth, high in the stratosphere. She could feel the pillars of this universe, healthy and whole, signaling the state of this universe’s archangels. Her inner chronometer put her October 2009, right at the start of the apocalypse. 

Fucking great . 

Kore gnashed her many teeth, all five mouths grinding down. She could not sense where Sam had landed, the sigils on his ribs made sure of that. It was annoying but a good sign, if she could not sense him, other angels would be unable to as well. 

Already, alarms were going off in Heaven and Hell at her arrival, most of the Supernatural community having felt the emergence of another celestial of her magnitude before she had been able to hide.

If she was lucky, her identity beyond that would remain a mystery. 

Her quick mind pierced together a plan. 

Sam was a smart man, he would remain as hidden as possible in this new world, gather himself and then seek out this world’s Winchesters. She intended to do so as well, but with this universe’s apocalypse in full swing, Heaven and Hell had eyes on them at all times. Kore would stick out like a sore thumb if she stepped in, even in disguise. If she got close to the brothers, others would take notice and try to use her to further their own agendas. People’s noses would be too far in her business, trying to suss out blackmail or weak points to exploits, for her to do anything be on the defensive. Which sounded exhausting and counterproductive. 

She needed somewhere the Winchesters frequented enough that anything earth-shattering, such as an alternate Sam popping up, would get back to her. 

And she knew just the place. 

Bobby had been stuck in the damn wheelchair for months.

Bolts on his wheels keep catching doors and stray book stacks. The transitions between the floor and tiles are steep enough that he has to pull himself, and the chair, through by the doorframe or risk falling over. He could barely get to the sink, and had to have his chair to the side to cook with one arm or twist himself to the side as best he could. This house wasn't made with accessibility in mind.

Bobby himself wasn't in much better shape, mentally or physically. His body ached with phantom pains in his legs, and his arms were sore from his near-constant use. He couldn't leave the house. He couldn't drive. Couldn’t get his goddamn groceries. 

He could barely take care of himself, and they were in the middle of the goddam apocalypse. People were dying, and here he was.

He was old. Broken down. Useless . 

Bobby huffed a loud, broken sign and took another long sip of whisky. The burn distracted him for a moment, the sweet musk scent of the aged liquor distracting him for a few precious seconds. It was over as quickly as he put it down, and Bobby noted with disappointment that his glass was empty. He contemplated pouring himself a few more fingers, or maybe a whole bottle. Get good and drunk. 

The whisky soothed along his insides like a hot shower, filling his gut with a slow, radiating warmth that worked its way into his fingers and behind his eyes. The sigh he let out was a lot less sad as his tension melted away, along with his thoughts. 

Bobby woke up with a start. It was dark, nighttime shone clearly though his windows and the moon cast odd, creeping shadows across his floor. The night was quiet, only broken by the random humm of a passing car from the highway a good few miles behind his property, or by the random neighbor dog. A single streetlamp streamed through his living room window, casting the whole area in a bluish sheen. 

Well, all except the large, blazing red eyes that hovered in the corner. 

Bobby didn’t move.

The eyes didn’t move. 

They were locked in a staredown. 

Sweat beaded on the man's brow as the otherworldly eyes continued to gaze at him, their blazing pink pupils a pinpoint in apple-red irises. He felt gouged open, peered into, observed with a curiosity that was both alien and predatory. 

The creature’s pupils quaked, their forms shuttering between the rectangular shape of a ram to a slitted, more serpentine one. A deep, palpable static filled the air, vibrating Bobby’s eardrums and making his vision blur at the edges.

His breathing picked up, and before he could think better of it, he went for his shotgun. He never took his eyes off it, but his body had to twist to reach the gun, putting the eyes at the edge of his vision, even as he strained his neck. It had moved in that time, coming inches from his face as he twisted back around with a shout. 

“What the hell are you!?” he yelled, his hands steady even as his body shook. This thing made every inch of his body scream, he felt like he was in the open ocean, staring into the darkness below him as large eyes and ginormous teeth slowly emerged to swallow him. His fight or flight was in full swing and each side had hands on the wheel, tugging it back and forth.

He felt the pressure in the room drop, his ears popping and his head ringing. Air rushed back into his lungs and voices rang out, thousands layered on each other in harmony and discourse to form one ear-rattling voice. 

“Bobby Singer, you have heard my name before, but first,” it began, its voice slithering in his ears. “Let me assure you that I mean no harm to you or yours, should you mean no harm to me or mine. This, I swear, is true.” 

Bobby sucked in a deep breath, the words resonating in a heavy way that laid across his shoulders like a heavy blanket of magic and promise. A small part of Bobby relaxed at the vow, feeling the promise settle around them. The fear was still there, but had taken a new shape. 

The creature needed something. 

A thousand voices chuckled, the glassware on his mantel vibrating with the sound. 

“ That is correct, Bobby Singer. I require your help, and in return, offer my own. ” 

“You still haven't told me who you are.” Bobby sait. 

The creature laughed again. “ Why! I am the one who walks in the valley of shadows, the Prince of Darkness, and Lord of Lies. I am Lucifer! But not the one you have come to know. I am here to help. ” 

“Tell me how I'm supposed to believe that,” the hunter growled. The revelation that this creature was the very Devil they sought to destroy, the provenance of all evil, made Bobby come to the sharp realization he wouldn’t come out of this alive. He only hoped the boys wouldn’t find what was left of him. 

“ So dark, so dour. Will you not hear me out? ” the creature tutted, “ I'm offering you a way, several ways, of stopping the apocalypse. Without your sons coming to harm's way. Will you not listen? ” the creature taunted him, its voices high and litting. Bobby’s jaw clenched hard, grinding his teeth and feeling his ears begin to ring. 

He lowered the gun. 

Lucifer seemed satisfied. 

“What do you want?” he grumbled. Lucifer hummed. 

“I am from another universe. I crashed into this one after being attacked, and lost my companion in the process. Heaven and Hell are aware of my presence here, tho not who I am. I intend to keep it that way, retrieve my companion, and leave this universe for my own before trouble finds us. ”

“Why not do so then?”

“ My companion is warded heavily, for his own protection. I cannot find him, I must wait for him to find me. He knows how. ” 

“And you intend to do that here?”

“ Yesssss, you're the center of a large hunting network, your people will surely spot my companion. And, funnily enough, you are a viable temporary vessel for me. Though, not a strong one, I'll admit .”

“You want to use me as a vessel?”

“ Yes, I assure you, I have practice keeping temporary vessels in good condition, and I will be keeping my power output to a bare minimum in order to keep my presence hidden. ” 

“You’ll still be walking around in my body, doing things in my name.”

“ Would it help if we wrote up a contract stating what is and isn't allowed? ”

Bobby huffed, yes it would. 

“And what exactly do I get out of this? You said you can help us stop this shit? Why would you go against your other self?”

“ I have no connection to this universe's version of myself, and from what I have seen, he has taken a very different path than I have. I have my own people to protect and I would like to get back to them, hurting this world does not benefit me. And my other self will see me as a threat or a tool to further his own plans, I have no desire for any of this. 

“In full, I offer you two solutions to your apocalypse, to trap the archangels or kill them, that will be up to you. I will heal your body, I need it functional after all, and any resources I leave behind when I take my leave of this universe will be yours. ”

Bobby considered the offer, weighing every word against the backdrop of the impending apocalypse and the threats it posed to everyone he cared about. He was a hunter down to his bones, and the prospect of striking a deal with the Devil—any version of him—was tantamount to dancing with the darkest fires. Yet, what Lucifer offered was too significant to dismiss out of hand. He had seen too much, lost too much, to not consider any opportunity that might protect those he called family. He thought of his boys, the darkness that crept into their eyes every passing day as more and more people died.

"All right," Bobby said slowly, his voice thick with caution. "We'll write up that contract. I want clear terms, boundaries that you do not cross. And you'll stick to them, or so help me, I'll find a way to make you regret it."

Lucifer's eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and respect. " Very well, Bobby Singer. You drive a hard bargain, but it's agreed. Let us finalize the terms, and I shall begin the work of healing you and preparing us against what is to come. "

The room felt charged, a silent current running through the air as they discussed the specifics. Bobby dictated his conditions fiercely, ensuring his autonomy and safety. Lucifer listened, their eyes focused and filled with consideration, occasionally affirming or specifying their capabilities and limitations.

Once they agreed on the terms, Lucifer let out a loud, satisfied humm that made Bobby’s bones ache. 

“ Very well, do you agree with these terms, Bobby Singer? Will you allow me to take you as a vessel and put an end to your apocalypse? ” The eyes cast a red glow on the desk’s surface, illuminating the white parchment that laid out before them. 

“Yes,” Bobby agreed, feeling a weight settle into his gut. 

It felt a lot like fear. 

It felt a little like hope. 

Kore wiggled her fingers and toes as she stood from the chair, aches and pains falling away like wisps of smoke as she continued. Bobby was quiet in the back of her head, his mind adjusting to the magnitude of her Grace. Sam had been a natural, his soul and body were made for her. When she had arrived at Singer Salvage, she was very surprised to find that he was a viable vessel for her. 

His bloodline was diluted, she’d put him a few steps below Nick in terms of durability, but it was enough. She’d keep her grace use to a minimum, and focus more on natural magicks and her sigils to get work done.  

Kore quickly got to work, moving and adjusting the wards around the salvage yard to be much more potent. She spent hours layering spell after spell, engraving ward stones that she tied to Singer’s blood, then buried around the entire property a good 12 feet underground. Enochian, Latin, Sumerian, Ancient Greek, and Sanskrit were etched along every wall and foundation. 

Bobby also had some very rare ingredients that made for good spells, she was able to find enough silver galangal to perform a powerful scrying spell. She used it to spy on some of the lesser players of this world, sniffing out hidden information about the apocalypse from secret heavenly meetings to nasty demonic gatherings. 

This world’s apocalypse was going very similarly to the original show, with no large enough deviations for her to guess a significant change in the ending. At this moment, this world’s Lucifer hovered around Nick, and Michael was still trying to get Dean to say yes. There was a lot of chatter about her arrival, but many people believed it had been another angel- perhaps their wayward Gabriel-that had caused it. 

She tried to scry for Sam- either Sam- but it didn’t work. 

Kore drummed her fingers on the desk, the morning light finally trickling through the windows. 

Sam would show up, she was certain of it. He was a creature of habit and would retreat to a place he deemed safe. He wasn’t dead, she knew that; the bond that held them as vessel and archangel was old and strong and pulsed with every beat of his heart, the rhythm bringing her a surprising amount of comfort. 

This left her with time on her hands. She didn’t know how long Sam would take to reach her, depending on where he landed it could take months. 

Kore was not a creature with idle hands. 

She had several things she needed to get done. First, she needed to curb this universe’s apocalypse. The less power each side had, the safer her and Sam would be until they found one another. Sam would hardly be able to reach Singer Salvage in a timely fashion if he was dodging demons every other day. But that creates the question of ‘How?’

If Kore were less cautious, she'd go out and start sneakily shanking all of the ‘problem makers’, including her alternate self. Though she was surprised by how unbothered she was about killing him, he wasn't her after all. 

Bobby finally stirred in the back of her head. 

“Good morning,” she hummed, her voice coming out low and gruff in Bobby’s body. 

‘ The hell- ’ the old hunter muttered. She felt his soul shift around in the back of their vessel, oddly mobile for a soul fresh into possession. ‘ What's going on? ’

“Nothing so far, just planning my next moves,” she replied, her mind already going back to her plotting. “You'll find the wards around your home much more reliable. Nothing supernatural will be able to get in or out.”

‘ Including you? ’

“Unfortunately so.” She sighed, “a necessity to keep my presence hidden until I'm able to leave. Grounded wards are much stronger than any I can tote around.” Bobby’s soul sparked against her Grace like little fireworks. 

‘ How so? ’ he asked, curiosity filling his tone. 

Kore leaned back in her chair, “Well, a ward’s strength goes into how it was made: what it was intended for, what materials, the ritual, and the location. Intention is the biggest factor, the wards take an ‘imprint’ so to say of the caster’s desires. It gives the wards a sense of semi-sentience, stronger depending on the power of the wards. You’d be surprised how far you can strong-arm though spells if you have the correct will and intent.

“Materials, as you know, channel our intent. Better ingredients, better channel. Try to channel something too strong through weak ingredients, it increases the chance of backfiring. That is why the most complicated spells take such rare resources, because you don't want to fuck it up. As for rituals, it's somewhat the same. Rituals are for guiding intentions, and a lot of languages carry a power of their own that can benefit or harm a spell’s outcome.” 

‘ How so? ’ Bobby asked, his soul humming. 

“Languages are human intention given form, how that language intends words vs how you intend them can clash. 

“Take Latin for example. How you read and process the language is different from how it was read and processed when it was created and used fluently. All the years of intentional use has left an imprint on the universe for that language, which you are tapping into when you use it. You can intend one thing, but the language may twist it into another. It ties back into intent and willpower. 

“Lastly, you have a location, which is fairly self-explanatory. You know of ley lines?” Bobby gave an affirmative, “It’s much the same, wards will draw off the ambient energy of the space around it, supplying itself with power until the source is gone before using itself as reserve power.”

‘ Like a generator switching on after the grid goes out .’

“Very similar! And with a finite amount of power as well. How long the spell will last depends on the caster and the ambient energy of the area around it. How many appliances you have running will determine how long the power stays on.”

‘So you need to stay in one place so the spell pulls off the grid, not the generator. So you can have as many ‘appliances’, which I'm assuming are other spells, going?’

“Bravo Bobby, that is correct.” She said, not a hint of exaggeration in her tone. She was pleased by how quickly the man was picking up her lesson. His sharp mind was refreshing. Whenever he made a connection independently, Kore felt a little giddy swell. Inquisitive minds always pleased her, their innovation excited her and she loved winding them up and watching where they ended up. That was one thing she did like about humans, their endless curiosity matched her own. 

‘What other spells do you have going? ’ Bobby probed. Kore was certain that the man would be taking notes if he could. 

“Standard protection, concealment, anti-scrying/flying/teleporting, longevity, detection, and an anti-pollutant. The smog from the highway was giving me a headache.” She waved at the air in front of her. “Also, it takes energy to conceal me, I have a very hefty signature so the wards take quite a bit of juice. So I'm stuck in one place until my companion finds me.” 

With minimal grace , she thought angrily to herself. The more she used her natural-born powers, the more likely someone would notice her beyond the wards or notice the wards themselves. 

It was the one downside of warding, how conspicuous it could be to certain beings if you were not careful—mainly the celestial ones.

She needed to find a way to hide herself better. Both in universe and out. 

Her path through the Empty had woken It, even when she had tried her hardest to remain inconspicuous It had roused and attacked her. She expected the same when she had to travel through again. 

Kore held in a groan as she thought about the icy hands that numbed her down to her core, the blanket of lethargy that weighed her down and pinned her in ink and ooze. Fear and disgust curled her insides at the thought of going back in, of slipping away into the cold darkness, of letting her light be snuffed out. 

Yet, she was determined to return to her home dimension. They had been knocked off course, and her mad dash might have sent them further astray. Kore needed a way to traverse through the Empty stealthily. And it was clear her old methods were not going to work. 

Frustration filled her as she puzzled over how she was going to get home.

If she ever did. 

Chapter Text

AU#2 OCTOBER-NOVEMBER 2009

 Since Kore was officially on house arrest and her powers limited, she had to delegate work to others. Which meant cashing in on some of Bobby’s favors with his hunting buddies. The old man gripes that she was using his namesake to get her dirty work done, but after she explained why, the man calmed. 

Her plan to assist the Winchester’s in this dimension was to fashion two pairs of power dampening cuffs that they could slip onto each archangel. The cuffs would hold each long enough to be tossed into the Cage or killed (though she did not recommend this). But she needed materials that Singer Salvage did not have, some of them rare or exotic. The main problem was the metal, platinum was expensive and the gold didn’t come cheaply either. She also needed special tools to etch the sigils as well, which she would probably have to forge herself. 

She began by ripping apart a good section of Singer Salvage. Bobby was surprisingly ok with this, on the trade off that she explained what she is doing and why. Kore didn’t have a problem with this, and found herself surprisingly eager to teach him more. 

‘ So what are you building? ’

“Well, Old man,” she began, his grumbles falling on deaf ears. “You have quite a stock of gear here, but not everything I need. I plan on creating some very powerful and delicate spellwork to end your apocalypse, delicate enough that the tools themselves can affect the outcome. Forging my own chisels, hammers, and other tools will imbue them with intent, which in turn alters my creations with that intent.” 

‘ What happens if you don't use them? Why not carve it with a knife or your own hands? ’ he asked. 

“I’ll give you an example, say I’m trying to hit a target across a large field. On my own, with enough skill, time, and practice, I can hit that target dead on on my own. The tools are like my scope and wind reader, it gives me a more accurate shot. The same for the rest of the parts going into a ritual or spell.” 

‘ So, the easier the spell, the closer and bigger the target? ’

“That’s correct, Bobby. Now think of the target I’m trying to hit as the size of a quarter, 300 miles away, and in hurricane winds. There is a big chance to fuck it up, that’s why I have to be meticulous.” 

‘You’re an archangel, could you fashion these with your powers?’

“Ehhh, gray area. Yes, but anything I create out of grace can be overpowered by others. Beings like Michael would be able to rip through my constructs with ease. While anything I form with my grace is solid and physical as any other thing,” she smacked the desk for emphasis, “Its… metaphysical presence isn't. Humans don't have the exact term for it. But it ties back into intent and will, the process of building or growing something from the ground up gives it a more lasting and solid strength for your spell to ground itself in. It’s like going for the drywall in the bank instead of the vaults’ metal door.” 

‘So building it up in the physical plain makes it stronger.’

“Yes, and far less likely to get broken.” 

‘That makes sense,’ Bobby said, nodding slowly as the implications settled in. He watched from the back of their eyes as Kore moved around the yard, her movements precise and purposeful as she sorted through heaps of metal and machinery. ‘ And these cuffs, they’d really hold an archangel?’

“Not just hold,” Kore clarified, setting down a piece of scrap she’d turned over in her hands. “They’re designed to neutralize. As long as the wearer has them on, they won’t be able to access their celestial powers. It's a temporary fix, but long enough to shove their asses into the Cage.”

‘ And you’re sure this will work? ’ Bobby pressed, skepticism clear in his voice despite his earlier acceptance.

“I’m certain. The sigils I plan to use are ancient, some of the oldest forms of celestial binding known to my kind. Combined with the right materials and forged in the correct manner, they’ll hold.”

Bobby mulled over this, his focus drifting towards the stacks of salvage that Kore had organized into different categories. ‘What about the materials you don’t have? How do you plan on getting them?’

“That’s where your contacts come in,” Kore responded, her tone lightening. “I need items that aren’t exactly off-the-shelf. Rare earth metals, specific gemstones, and the platinum and gold for the actual cuffs.” She had salvaged what she could of each element, ransacking Bobby’s yard for old electronics for their flecks of gold and catalytic converters for their platinum, but it was nowhere near what she needed. 

Bobby chuckled dryly. 

“So, who in my Rolodex are you planning to bankrupt with this shopping list?” Bobby asked, half-joking as she went over to his desk to pull out an old, worn notebook filled with contacts.

“I’ll be as economical as possible,” Kore assured him. “I’ll start with the basics, what we can scavenge here and what’s readily available. For the rest, I'll need to barter. I have a few artifacts from my universe that might tempt the right collector or practitioner.”

‘ And if they don’t bite?’

Kore’s Grace hummed with a mix of mischief and determination. “Then I’ll make them an offer they can’t refuse. Everyone has a price, Bobby, and right now, the currency I’m dealing in is the fate of this world.”

Bobby grunted in response, impressed despite himself. ‘ Well, when you put it like that, even the stingiest old hunters can’t argue much. But you, ” she got the impression off his soul, as if he pointed a stern finger at her, ‘ keep your end of the bargain clean. No funny business with my friends.’

Kore raised her hands in a mock surrender. “Scout’s honor.”

‘ Put it down! It's fine!’

“There is no form of organization here, Old man, how do you even find shit in this hoarders den?”

‘I have a system,’ Bobby snarked, ‘one that doesn't need your red hooves messing with it! ’ 

“Basic burn, I expected better. There is dust everywhere, I'm surprised mice and bugs haven't eaten through your books!”

‘ That's what the hex bags are for .’ 

“I can organize this in like, a day.”

‘ No .’

“It’s giving me hives.”

‘ No! ’

A mountain of cars loomed above her, stacked in towers up to 6 cars tall. Walls of tires, wheel wells, old fenders and broken axles laid in piles all around, framing a walkway 2 cars wide through the two acres of lot. Bobby’s land was a good chunk, about 10 acres in all, with the other 8 being forest area, fenced in by the highway on the east, open forest on the south and west; his house faces the North. 

Kore claimed a spot at the backside of the house, out of sight of the main road. She got to work, picking up cars with her bare hands and dead-lifting them over her head. A temporary structure was formed, with cars forming three walls and an old aluminum siding for a roof. It was pressed against the barn, the opening facing away from the main house for discretion. 

Without her grace, Kore had to MacGyver the absolute fuck out of her forge.

She picked apart Bobby’s salvage yard, picking up pieces and inspecting them for their functionality, before tossing them aside or keeping them. Piles formed in the empty spaces, sorted by what metals and alloys the scrap was made of to be melted down later. 

 To set up her forge, she first salvaged an old cast iron bathtub, flipping it over to serve as the main body of the forge. Its durable material made it an ideal choice for containing high temperatures and the super-fine etches she made along the exterior in Old Norse to improve durability and add consistency to her flames. To create a heat source capable of reaching the necessary high temperatures for metalwork, she scavenged a number of old brake rotors and fashioned a grate, arranging them in a circle within the tub to hold the coal she found in Bobby’s shed. 

For the bellows, Kore repurposed a large, flexible air duct she found tangled in a pile of scrap metal. She connected this to a salvaged car blower motor, which would provide the necessary airflow. The motor was wired to an old car battery that was rigged to a solar panel she had salvaged from a wrecked RV, ensuring a sustainable power source.

Her anvil was crafted from a section of railroad track that had likely been part of an old transport or hauling setup on the property. It was small but effective, perfect for the detail work she anticipated needing for her sigils and enhancements.

Finally, for the chimney, she utilized several lengths of old, rusted piping, attaching them securely to guide the smoke upward and away from her working area. The assembly of these components into a functioning forge took the better part of an afternoon, her enhanced strength bending and shaping metal with ease.

Kore stood back to admire her handiwork. It was ugly as shit, undoubtedly improvised, but radiated a raw, functional aesthetic. It felt good to work with her hands and fashion something functional and strong. She could already imagine the hours she would spend in this forge, hyperfocused on her task and enjoying every second of it. Her Grace would light up like stars colliding, outshining the cosmos with its brilliance as she delved into her work with passion. 

Kore dug her hand into the coals to stir them, the glowing embers clicking around her fingers. Bobby’s soul cringed every time she did something inhuman for the first time, expecting pain from her actions but then relaxing when experiencing none. 

He peppered her with continued questions about her forge and the preparations she was making for the apocalypse. He also probed her about her own universe.

“I could tell you anything, why would you believe me?”

‘ Dont matter if I do or dont right now, you’ll tell me one way and I’ll find out if youre telling the truth. Form my opinions then.’

“A pragmatic approach, one I can appreciate.”

‘ You seem the sort to respect the direct .’

“I consort with demons and cosmic beings who have nothing better to do than speak cryptically and in rhyme.” Bobby snorted. “It's appreciated when the bullshit is cut out. Things get done a lot faster.” 

Kore began to man the phones in Bobby’s stead. And had a surprisingly fun time spinning bullshit stories about whatever alphabet agency had jurisdiction there. 

Different hunters also began to call for help on lore and resources. Bobby was ok with this after the fourth time she knew the creature, cutting out the research and lessening hunts by days or even weeks. Kore found herself begrudgingly enjoying herself, coming up with spells and protective talismans for these hunters to keep them safe. They were interesting little puzzles, and every time they worked she felt pleased. Hunters started to call more often, and more of them too as the apocalypse continued and she established Bobby as a reliable source. She found herself using emails on Bobby’s crusty-dusty computer to send images of spells and tutorials on protective charms, hex bags, and weapons. 

This didn’t keep her busy long, and she found herself power-cleaning Bobby’s house, to his very loud protests. She tackled his kitchen, scrubbing down years of water build up and grease stains until the surfaces sparkled. The fridge was cleaned out and wiped down, shelves rearranged, and cookware sorted. Bobby howled like demented animal when she tossed out old tupperware that was stained red from past spaghettis. 

“Stop yammering, you old fart, or I'm breaking out the lace doilies.” 

‘This is what I get for making a deal with the Devil, your mits all in my shit.’ 

“Maybe if you had any semblance of cleanliness or organization I wouldn’t feel the need.” She bagged up the last of the trash and threw it in the large dumpster around the side of the garage. “Don't make me go for the books, next.” 

Bobby hissed in anger, his soul puffing up like an angry cat. 

“Chill, Old Man, It’s not like I’m throwing out your Led Zeppelin records. These are just old containers.”

‘ It’s about principle!’ Bobby’s soul grumbled back, watching helplessly as years of accumulated ‘just in case’ items vanished into the trash bag.

With a smirk, Kore tied off the trash bag and hoisted it over her shoulder. “Principle doesn’t keep the mold at bay,” she retorted, heading out to the dumpster. Her next target was the living room, where she threatened the dusty shelves and scattered papers with the same ruthlessness she had shown the kitchen.

‘You're turning my house into a sterile lab,’ he complained loudly as she placed years of old newspaper in a cardboard box to be recycled. 

"Consider it a necessary upgrade, Bobby. Cleanliness might not be next to godliness, but it’s pretty close." As she continued her cleaning, Kore mused on the irony of her situation. Here she was, a celestial being of immense power, reduced to domestic chores in a hunter's home on Earth. Yet, there was something undeniably grounding about the work. Even with Bobby yamering in her ear. 

As Kore settled deeper into the skin and life of Bobby Singer, her days became a whirlwind of supernatural consultations and crafting protective spells. Her reputation as Bobby solidified with each successful hunt aided by her profound knowledge and magical prowess. 

Her progress on the cuffs had been delayed, several of the needed ingredients mid-delivery or still waiting to be found. She hated relying on others to get things done, but needs must. So she found herself looking for busy work, unable to keep still longer than a few hours.

A particularly frenzied afternoon brought an interesting challenge that would later lead to a greater discovery.

Four hunters, veterans by their scars and gritty attitudes, arrived at Singer's Salvage unannounced. They brought with them a sense of urgency and a problem that was wreaking havoc across state lines. The leader of the group, a stern woman named Marlene, laid out a map covered with symbols and lines that intersected at various points.

“Since the apocalypse began, we've tracked a series of possessions, ghost sightings, and demonic omens to this convergence of ley lines,” Marlene explained, pointing to the cross marked on the map. “Whatever's happening, it’s big. But it's also protected by some heavy-duty wards and demonic security. We’re thinking of something to cleanse the whole area, but we need your help.”

Kore, intrigued by the puzzle and the stakes, rubbed her chin thoughtfully—a gesture she’d picked up from watching her Bobby over the years. “You’re talking about sanitizing a supernatural hotspot, purging everything unnatural from it?”

“Exactly,” another hunter, a young man named Theo, chimed in. “But every time we get close, our tools fail, and our spells fizzle out. It’s like something is sapping our strength.”

Kore nodded slowly, her mind racing through possibilities.

She didn’t know what was intended for the site, could be they were gathering for a ritual or spell, but the amount of power the ley lines and the hunters hinted at had alarm bells ringing. Whatever they were charging the ley lines for, it would be nasty.

The Devil mulled over her options, wondering how to counteract or purge the site as they suggested. 

Kore sent the four hunters off to bed to rest and recharge as she began to build a spell from the ground up. Billions of years of knowledge and an appetite for questions had made Lucifer a formidable scholar. Pulling apart what she knew and putting it back together in new and interesting ways made her Grace sing. 

She used a combination of Sanskrit and Enochian, weaving them together and around until what laid before her was a mandala of sigils so complex and intertwined that Bobby pulled away from their eyes, his soul nauseous at the influx of information. 

Kore scowled down at the paper, angry at herself for getting carried away and at the humans for being primitive. She didn’t trust that they could recreate any spell complex and powerful enough to purge that bad of an area on their own. 

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose where Bobby’s glasses perched, a gesture she found oddly comforting. With a resolute flick of her wrist, she crumpled the paper and tossed it into a growing pile of discarded attempts. It wasn’t just about crafting a spell; it was about making it usable for those without celestial power or millennia of experience to back it. She needed a different approach, something practical yet potent enough to handle the task at hand.

Kore walked over to the forge, the heart of her current operations. The air was thick with the scent of molten metal and charred coal in the ever-burning hearth. Here, she felt more in control.

Deciding to take a more hands-on approach, she began gathering materials around the salvage yard, her mind whirling with possibilities. She pulled from stacks of discarded car parts, bits of old electronics, and chunks of a meteorite Bobby had that she’d hoarded for their celestial properties. Each piece was selected with a purpose, envisioned as part of a greater whole.

Back at the forge, Kore started crafting. The process was methodical and precise, her hands moving with a grace that belied their brutal strength. She forged a core of meteoric iron, infusing it with threads of silver that she melted and poured from a crucible.  

The design took shape under her skilled hands, growing from a mere concept into a tangible object. It was a tool, a conduit for power, a handheld device capable of channeling vast magical energies. She etched Sanskrit and Enochian sigils into its surface, each line meticulously drawn to maximize their effectiveness. The sigils weren’t just decorative; they were functional, and integral to the device's operation, creating a network of magical flow that could channel and amplify the user's intent.

By dawn, the device was complete. It was compact, no larger than a breadbox, with a network of crystalline structures and metal that glinted under the forge’s dim light. It was beautiful in a terrifying way, its surface alive with etched sigils that seemed to move and shift subtly as if breathing.

When the hunters gathered in the morning, bleary-eyed but eager, Kore presented the device. She explained its use: it was a purging tool, capable of cleansing large areas of supernatural influence. The hunters were amazed, their initial skepticism giving way to awe as Kore demonstrated its power on a small scale, purging a corrupted artifact she had as a test.

“This device,” Kore explained, “will channel the ley lines to empower the spell. It’s a direct conduit, which means it’s potent but also risky. You’ll need to be cautious, and balance the energy flow to avoid it blowing up in your face.”

The hunters listened intently, absorbing her instructions. They understood the risks, but the potential to cleanse entire areas of demonic or angelic influence was too valuable to ignore.

They wasted no time, driving off into the distance with her creation securely in the back seat. 

When the four hunters returned from their mission a day later, there was a visible weariness about them, but their spirits were buoyant, their eyes alight with the thrill of triumph. They reported success, detailing how the device had cleared the area of all supernatural entities with startling efficiency. They admitted feeling unusually tired, but attributed it to the intensity of the operation and the stress of maintaining the spell.

Kore, sensing something different even with her contained Grace, wasn't satisfied with just their explanations. As they recounted their experience, she pulled each aside to examine them more closely, her senses attuned to their minds and bodies. What she discovered piqued both a surprise and curiosity. 

The device hadn’t harmed them, but had tapped into their souls, which was not what she intended. The rune sequences she had etched were supposed to activate once placed on the ground, tapping into the lay lines to power the spell. After a bit more questioning, she weaseled out that the group had instead, in some stupid human 'we all go out together' bullshit, held onto the device as a group. 

Fascination took hold as she considered the implications of this discovery. The hunters would be fine by morning, their souls a little dim but showing rapid recovery. However, the fact that the device could tap into such a power source opened a myriad of new possibilities and questions about the fundamental workings of her spellcraft.

"Remarkable," Kore murmured under her breath as she watched the hunters relax and share a meal, their laughter filling the room despite the day's exhaustion. The interaction between human soul energy and the arcane mechanisms of the device suggested a new frontier in her magical theories.

Her mind raced with the potential of soul-powered magic—safely harnessed, it could offer new ways to combat the forces of the apocalypse without relying solely on environmental energies or risking significant depletion of her own powers. However, the ethical implications were not lost on her; the power to draw on the soul was a dangerous tool, one that needed careful handling and strict controls. 

Fucking with a soul was both dangerous and sacrilegious, and destroying one was a taboo so strict even she wouldn’t touch it. It was one of the reasons she had been cast out, creating the demon Lilith had been borderline, as far as she could stretch the rule without breaking it. 

Kore decided that further experimentation was needed, but with rigorous safeguards to ensure no harm would come to those lending their energies. The device's design would need revising, incorporating fail-safes that would protect the users from undue harm while still capitalizing on this new method of power generation.

A surprisingly deep sense of caution tempered her vigorous excitement. "This will require careful thought and experimentation," she whispered into Bobby’s curious soul, her gaze lingering on the hunters as they celebrated their victory. "Power from the soul... a tremendous discovery. ”

Chapter Text

AU#2 OCTOBER 2009

Sam awoke in a large outcropping of trees. And by in, he meant in. 

The branches and trunks swaddled his body and limbs, cradling his whole self in the canopy of dozens of beautiful white trees. Leafs tickled his cheeks and the bare skin of his wrists as he breathed in a deep breath. Icy-cold numbness made his limbs a deadweight, his head flopping side to side as he tried, and failed, to look around. 

“Ih-ufuh,” he tried to call for Lucifer, but his lips could barely move, his breath so weak and short the sounds barely passed his teeth.

He tried again, his voice a soft rasp, barely audible over the soft rustle of the leaves surrounding him. His tongue felt thick, his throat dry as though he hadn’t spoken in days, and the cold made it even harder to form any clear thought. The icy sensation seeped into his bones, numbing his entire body as if he had been asleep for far too long. 

Where was Lucifer? Where was he? The last thing he remembered was the black void of the Empty, but here he was... alive, barely , and somewhere that felt so foreign yet eerily peaceful.