Post by Lucifer on Nov 28, 2013 16:04:25 GMT -5
Lucifer Morningstar
Name: Lucifer Morningstar Alias: Oh here we go. You know there are a lot of names he goes by, though he is most partial to Lightbringer and Morning Star, surprisingly enough. Naturally, he is also known as Satan, the Devil, and a plethora of other things with nasty connotations. His personal favorite though, is one he dubbed for himself. Sammy’s little helper. Age: Ancient Occupation: OWinchester hunting? Angel baiting? Demon smiting? Really now. He’s Lucifer. He doesn’t have a job. He has hobbies, that vary in importance depending on his mood. Member Group: Angel Playby: Mark Pellegrino and Jared Padelecki |
THE STORY WE ALL KNOW
Lucifer was the second born son of God, the younger brother of Michael and the elder brother of all the rest. He was born beautiful and bright, and he held nothing but a great and unconditional love for his younger siblings. He felt a need to guide and protect them, and when he was lost he turned to Michael or to God. In the beginning, Lucifer was surrounded by the love and favor of his Father and the adoration of his siblings. There was nothing he could have wanted for. Heaven was an endless, achingly ravishing Paradise in which everything felt right and there was no concept of wrong.
Yet God was not content with what he had already built. The lovely Earth and the delicate Heaven above was somehow not enough to satisfy the Allfather. So in his image he created Humanity, and he loved them above all other things – including the angels that had come long before the hairless apes and their insidious Free Will. Lucifer did not know, at the time of its inception, the concept of what rolled through him as he watched his brothers and sisters be forsaken in favor of the flawed creatures below. He did not understand the darkness that settled in his heart as his siblings, one by one, followed their Father’s decree and admired humans over one another. It would take centuries for Lucifer to understand that in those moments, he had given birth to the seeds of jealousy and bitterness.
He spoke out against God, not just for himself but for all of his siblings. It hurt to watch them debase themselves for these flawed creatures, and it angered him to not have the attention he was used to surrounding himself with. He was jealous, he was bitter, he was angry – and above all else, he was convinced that he was right. Lucifer refused to love Humanity more than God, and he refused to love them more than his siblings. They were murderous, treacherous, petty and small. They had no right being put above the angels; their place was beneath them, as the second born they ought to be the second loved.
Perhaps it was this ideal that lead to Lucifer’s banishment. Perhaps it was his pride and anger, perhaps it was God’s idea of irony to show the second son what being the second loved truly meant. Regardless, after standing up against God for himself and his siblings, Lucifer was faced down by Michael and cast from Heaven under the order of God. It was then that Lucifer gave birth to hatred, but not for God or even Michael. His hatred was not toward God for being angry, but for casting him aside. His hatred was not toward Michael for obeying the word of their Father, but for not even bothering to question it for the sake of a brother who loved him. For not even thinking to ask why.
Anger coursed through Lucifer and it was then that his temper came to the fore. He wanted God to see how much being torn from his home had hurt him – but above all else he wanted God to see precisely how flawed humans truly were. And from Hell he worked and weaved, twisting and warping a human soul with nothing more than whispered words and the idea of temptation. She became something else entirely, a creature no longer mortal, neither human nor angel, dark and completely impure in every way. Lilith, the first demon, was the first of Lucifer’s creations. He didn’t like her – was in fact rather bored by her – but there was something about what he had done – what he had made that intrigued him. Making things – even petty, cruel, dark things – was fun. He could see the allure. What he couldn’t understand was how you could like them simply because you made them.
Of course, God wasn’t all too impressed with someone going around breaking his toys and taking all the pretty out of them (As Lucifer viewed it, anyway) which promptly resulted in the time-out room otherwise known as the Cage. Very. Very. Boring. Place. To say Lucifer hated the Cage most of all would be the understatement of the millennia. There was nothing to do but whisper, and despite the sheer amount of demons he weaved up while trapped there, he was painfully, brutally alone. That, really, was what made him a bit quirky – but we’ll get to that later.
Eventually, the locks fell into place and Lucifer was let out of his cage thanks to two Winchesters and a dead firstborn. Really, not a bad price. He found a vessel in Nick, and with that part of the game set in motion, it was time to get down and dirty with the world cleansing. Like the other angels, Lucifer had felt God’s absence for a long time – at first, he had thought it was further punishment. It wasn’t until one of his whispering creations mentioned that God was gone that it occurred to him maybe something bigger was happening and so, he put out some feelers and began developing a plan. He knew what he was meant to do, according to all the scriptures, but Lucifer hated being predictable. That was – well – boring. So he figured if God was gone – why play by his rules?
Letting the Horsemen out to play was fun, though Death – eh. Death was troublesome, but manageable. The really frustrating bit was the little Winchester brothers and their consistent naysaying. They were pesky little humans – but Lucifer would be lying if he said he didn’t like their spark. They were far from boring – they were fun – and Lucifer, after a millennia of being locked up with nothing but demons around, had a healthy appreciation for fun things.
Things stopped being fun, however, a couple of times. First, when they convinced Gabriel to stand up to him. That had been disappointing, and it had caused Lucifer a deep pain to smite his little brother. Michael had always been his favorite, it was true, but then what little brother didn’t worship their older sibling? Of all the younger siblings he had, Gabriel had been among Lucifer’s most cherished. That was what earned him so quick and painless a death, rather than the usual torture that befell anyone who dared succeed in hurting Lucifer. In truth, Lucifer simply couldn’t bear to torment Gabriel in such a manner – it was easier to dispose of him quickly.
And then there had been Castiel. Blessed little Castiel and all his misplaced loyalty, so naive and young. Lucifer liked Castiel – he was a good angel – but then his loyalty to the Winchesters went one step too far. Where Castiel found the courage to deck Michael with holy fire, Lucifer would never know, but his rage had been fast and immediate. He hadn’t even hesitated in destroying the baby brother that time, though a fleeting regret hit him at the mess. As fun as exploded vessels were, exploding Grace was a painful way to go. For that, Lucifer felt a bit bad, but he had other, peskier problems at that point in time: Namely, Dean Winchester.
Lucifer honestly had no idea how Sam pulled it off, but somehow he actually pushed Lucifer back long enough to send him back into the Cage. Now admittedly, Lucifer would have been pissed beyond belief about this if it hadn’t been for three factors. One – he wasn’t alone, which meant he wouldn’t be bored. Two, Michael was with him, which meant maybe (just maybe) they could get some talking in between the beatings, and three, they had two vessels to play with in the meantime.
Except things didn't go as planned. Things went wrong, very wrong, and for five hundred years in the cage with Michael, Lucifer came to many realizations. Sam's body, then his soul were taken, leaving Lucifer alone but for his brother's endless rage. He accepted it for what it was and waited it through. When they were pulled out, Lucifer found his way back to Sam immediately, and earned a way back inside through deception. Though he hides within now, he has more plans than anyone would anticipate.
THE TRUTH BEHIND THE TALE
Lucifer did not sleep – it was not something that was programmed into his genetic make-up. He did not need to replenish himself through periodical reduction in his conscious awareness and the temporary inactivation of his voluntary muscles. When he was created by God, the Morningstar was made eternal and semi-omnipotent like Himself. A mighty dragon with six heads, eight legs and three wings, one might say in this day and age that God went a little overboard on the Morningstar just by taking the monstrosity of his true form into account.
Every head represented a distinct aspect of the Morningstar’s personality and yet all heads responded as one single consciousness, developing awareness and understanding of the differences between them while never actually being separate at all. If one head chose to rest itself, there was no dip in awareness so much as a drop in the ferocity of that particular aspect of the Morningstar’s disposition. None of the Morningstar’s heads actually needed sleep, or food, or any other substance to rejuvenate or keep themselves running. When a head chose to sleep, it did so for psychological reasons related to the avoidance of pain and frustration.
Each head possessed very distinct qualities, not just in personality but in appearance. With the Fall, the gentlest face had received a scar that marked it as disfigured – a symbolism not lost on Lucifer in even his happiest of moments. His heads developed a fierce protectiveness of that once motherly and eternally gentle face, which had only just begun to raise itself above for beings outside the precious, secret circle of pearls that Lucifer had so carefully collected and polished.
The world above told so many tales of the fiercely jealous way a dragon guarded its precious treasure, never understanding that pearls and gold had never meant to be ocean rocks and soft metals, but the transition of children as tainted shades were washed away until their inner purity shone through on their every scale. The fourty-nine Princes of Hell’s Second Tier were the most precious hoard of the universe, and the love Lucifer had for them transcended beyond the borders to stories of dragons and their gold, with never a soul understanding the truth that lay beneath the tales.
With a patience so long lasting and infinite as the one that had reached to each individual soul that had risen to become a Prince, it had taken Lucifer some time to understand that he would not get through to Michael. His brother, his eldest and most beautiful brother would not - could not - accept his words no matter how they were spoken. Lucifer had known that there were many who had forgotten his love for them. That after all his time locked away, he had become defiled so badly that even the oldest refused to remember that Lucifer had loved his brothers and sisters so deeply – so absolutely – that he had done something no other angel had ever thought to do. His reasons for questioning were completely lost to humanity, and had faded to obscurity in Heaven. Lucifer knew this. He accepted and understood the fact that his brethren could not bring themselves to question easily, so he had done it for them. Yet it seemed Michael, the eldest, the one who should be wisest, had forgotten all of this as well. Michael was so wrapped up in God's will that the very notion of a will of his own was lost in torment and rage.
Then, of course, there was Sam Winchester to take into account.
Images of Sam Winchester’s childhood had flashed forward so suddenly, so ferociously, that Lucifer had been caught entirely off guard by the intensity of the emotions. He had felt Sam fighting him from the moment he took hold, but it had been nothing more than the desperate cries of a lost soul – weak, and easily silenced. Lucifer had been driven, focused on his mission and determined to come out on the top of it all, to stand upon the ashes of the world and know that he had defeated the destiny set out for him by God. He knew his role had been specifically designed – knew that Hell needed him as its King, that Hell’s true purpose would be lost without him – but simply because he won the war didn’t mean he had to give up his job. He would prove to God that his story was his own, and no mere human was going to put a wrench into that.
What he had felt, the longing and the love that had consumed Sam Winchester’s soul as he stared at a seemingly innocuous toy soldier jammed into the Impala, had scorched his grace in a manner not known since the Fall itself. The fierce love of a brother, the desire to do anything – anything – it took to protect family, to sacrifice everything if it meant doing what was right and keeping them safe – was overwhelming and terrible. Lucifer faltered – he stepped back – and Sam took hold. The moment of the Winchester’s farewell sealed a fate in Lucifer’s grace even as it unlocked the terrible reality of revelation. It was as much Sam as it was Lucifer who had reached out and pulled Michael into the Cage, knowing that on his own Michael would find a way to ruin everything, without even meaning to do it.
The Cage was familiar to Lucifer, and he knew its every crevice well. He knew how to reach beyond it, to speak to his Princes and ensure that Hell remained in full functionality – but with Michael in the Cage it would be difficult at best to manage. For Lucifer had no intention of allowing Michael to learn of the Princes, nor would Michael come to learn of what God truly used Hell for. The Playpen was all that Michael saw – all that Lucifer could allow him to see – and orders were passed to disposable creatures that could do nothing but obey. The Princes got their orders second hand, but Lucifer had full faith they would know precisely what to do. It was the first thing Lucifer did when he landed in the Cage, but as soon as it was done, he had let go.
Lucifer knew his Cage well, but had never experienced it inside a vessel. He had let Sam go unthinkingly, focused as he was on ensuring that Hell’s true Kings received their orders. Once done, Lucifer had thrown himself to contemplation, to finding a way to correct the foolishness of what he had done while still trapped within the Cage. Sam Winchester had forced him to remember why he had rebelled – something that after so long, had become a bit torn and frayed around the edges. He remembered, fiercely now, and it killed him to realize how utterly impossibly foolish he had been to think that rewriting his destiny through death would do anything for the siblings he had sacrificed everything for.
The Cage did not suit Michael well, Lucifer fast came to discover. And lost as he was in his own thoughts and guilt, he did not quite hear the screaming of his vessel at the bottom of the Cage. Between avoiding Michael, trying to force Michael to listen or to talk, and just plain ignoring Michael’s frantic fury and fear while listening intently to the cries on the angel radio that tore him asunder, there was no thought to looking down. In Hell, there were so many screams that Sam’s was lost to him.
It wasn’t until they fell silent that Lucifer even realized what had occurred. Scarred wings expanded ferociously and without warning in the Cage, buffeting Michael and his vessel aside as Lucifer realized what he had inadvertently allowed to befall the human that had unchained his true self, reminded him so fiercely of what he truly was. Looking down, he saw Sam’s tortured body collapsed in the flames, and his grace twisted in pain at the sight. Diving down, Lucifer took hold of Sam once more, using his grace to heal the broken body even as his wings folded around the form to protect it from the flames. He could feel the tattered edges of Sam’s broken soul and was appalled at his own negligence.
Sam, Lucifer tried, desperately reaching for what consciousness was left to the human, pulling back against what was slowly fading, refusing to allow Sam to slip into the true pits, to become a black and twisted son of Hell. Little one! The cry was unexpectedly panicked, his wings rising defensively, angrily. He could feel Sam slipping, his strength was so faint, and Lucifer despised himself for not noticing. It had been years – years – and he was lucky there was any sign of Sam to dig into and pull from the brink even remotely.
Lucifer could not recall the last time his grace had felt so strained, so deeply pained, as in the moment he feared he had lost the one that had reminded him why he had been willing to fall. The only thing that came close, was the moment he had realized that God wasn’t listening, and Michael didn’t care.
He could feel reality and sensibility returning to Sam, slowly and so achingly painfully. There was such a weight of terror on the soul inside, so much which had been frayed and torn, that Lucifer genuinely did not know if he would succeed. It was touch and go for awhile there, but eventually the soul restored and Lucifer could feel Sam shifting. He could sense Michael closing in, but it was too soon to move Sam just yet. His wings fanned, a sign of warning, as his grace continued to calm and soothe.
Taking full charge of the vessel for just a span of a moment, Lucifer brought Sam to his perch within the Cage, high above the fires and the cement, above Michael and his pacing. Lucifer had no idea how long it would take for Michael to grow accustomed to the Cage, but he did know one thing. This Cage was not built for humans. I will get you out of here, Sam Winchester. So please, hold onto me, and give me time. I will keep you safe.
The promise resounded through Lucifer’s grace, powerful and compelling, as fiercely determined as he had been not so long ago, when he had believed that he was going to defeat God’s plan for him. There would be better ways, there would come a day when the Cage opened again – and when it did, Lucifer would be ready. He would escape Michael and he would do what he should have done from the beginning.
He would refuse to fight his brother.
But that was time neither here, nor now. What mattered in this moment was ensuring that Sam Winchester survived the Cage as intact as possible. His grace remained focused, calming and gentle as he settled back into the outcropping in the Cage that had been his nest for millennia. It was familiar and had been made into something comfortable for an angel without a vessel. It would likely be less so for a human, but Lucifer knew it was better than the floor, and with his grace inside of Sam, the perch would at least be somewhat pleasant. Now, all they had to do was wait - and there was no telling how long.
Hearing Michael's call even as he felt Sam's lack of trust, Lucifer calmly laced his feathers tightly together, making the protective ball around Sam as tight as possible. It would last as long as it took Michael to tear his wings out, at which point Lucifer would dive. It was the same game every time, Michael's rage always finding the same painful outlets. In the Cage, Lucifer had learned a terrifying truth about himself and his brother.
If he ever chose to fight back, Michael would lose.
Michael came on fiercely, he came on like a child in a rage, with no concept of long term strategy or even short term tactics. Torture was not his forte if the lack of creativity was anything to go by. The cruelty and warfare that had surrounded Lucifer for aeons had never been introduced to Michael. The elder had never known the sting of being seperated, had never known the agony of having his wings clipped and torn, had never learned the true meaning of being wounded.
There was once a time when Lucifer might have been angry enough to teach Michael such matters, but it had passed. So instead the Devil suffered under his elder brother with the knowledge that he could stop it, if he was willing to turn such cruelties on the one he had loved the most. The one who had never once looked down from his perch to see the admiration offered him.
Michael's taunts were pitifully childish, and within Sam the Devil couldn't help but sigh at them. Fear had driven him back into Sam, it was true. Fear for the loss of a human soul that had given so much without ever realizing precisely how much he would alter in doing so. He had been deaf to Sam's torment until it had gone quiet, a sign that he was perhaps too used to Hell's background noises.
It was saddening to realize that even Michael had forgotten Lucifer's true nature, but then again Michael had never really noticed it in the Beginning. Within Sam, Lucifer shifted uncomfortably as he realized Michael had likely believed the twisted tales of Lucifer more readily than the other angels, accepting the fall of the Morningstar without thought or question.
Reaching his grace out, Lucifer connected to the red eyed demon that always seemed to be lurking just outside the Cage. She was intimately familiar with this method of communication, just as he was, and she knew precisely what he wanted even as he sent his orders through. She disappeared as Michael taunted again, this time speaking of Sam leaving and dying. Threatening to kill Sam himself. Lucifer sighed again.
He will not kill you, Sam. Lucifer promised his vessel quietly, remaining where he was for now, knowing that the best defense he had for Sam was himself as a grace-shield. Michael could tear and render him asunder, but the vessel would be safe. It would not be long before Mammon would be able to twist someone into pulling Sam out of the Cage - inspiration was something she was good at. Until then, he would bear Michael's rage for Sam, and keep the vessel company in the long dark nights of the Cage in the rare moments when Michael rested.
Lucifer knew hatred, was intimately familiar with pain in all its forms, majestic and miserable. He knew agony and he knew wretchedness, he had been surrounded by it, embraced by it, cast down to it. These were things he had known, for a time, better than he had even known himself. He knew the truth in terror, the fear in being forgotten, and the hopelessness of Hell’s Cage. Lucifer knew how to go down, knew where the door to the Second Tier was. He could have escaped, for though there was no way upward there was peace in the world below. He could have taken Sam there, let him see that hidden truth, but he didn’t.
Lucifer had been exactly as Michael was now, without knowing about the fact that there was so much more than what was on the surface, He understood the fear and the sorrow, the all-consuming pain and mind altering rage. Understanding was something he could offer Michael, but it was more than his love for his brother, more than his desire to keep Michael company, that kept Lucifer from abandoning his brother to the Cage.
It was because to do so would mean that there had always been more to Lucifer’s imprisonment, and the fallen Morningstar had enough sense to know Michael would not take well to the realization. It was because to do so would cause a big enough change in Michael’s perceptions that it could potentially fill him with enough doubt to fall. But ultimately, as horrible as these truths were, it was the fact that Lucifer could not bear to risk revealing the family he had built in the absence of Heaven. So instead he suffered, instead he allowed Michael to rage and use him as an outlet, and when he had been on his own, this had been fine.
It was harder to do when there was Sam to protect as well.
There would be no escaping the attacks, Lucifer knew, but there were ways to escape the pain. As Michael’s voice filled the Cage with rage, as the elder archangel unleashed the brunt of his fury, Lucifer cloaked Sam’s mind with visions of another reality. He took Sam’s consciousness from the harsh reality of the Cage – and showed him Heaven instead.
Standing in the world of their shared mind, Lucifer too was somewhat dulled to the pain as he curved a wing around Sam and urged him forward. He showed Sam his own memories, and allowed his vessel to see what Heaven had been like, before the fall. He introduced Sam to God Himself, to the glory of His wings and the warmth of His Grace. He showed Sam Michael, showed Sam the beauty of the brother that now raged, lost and infuriated in a Cage that was never meant for him.
Even in memories, Michael’s Grace was distant. His beauty was without question, his dedication without rival, but there was a coldness to him. It was as lovely as everything else – but even then. Even then, it had been there. Even in memory, it was hard to realize and so Lucifer pulled them away from this memory as, in the physical world, Michael kicked them into a wall.
Lucifer showed Sam the births of angels. Of Raphael and Gabriel, their beauty and their amazing smallness. To Lucifer, that had been small, so very small and perfect. Now and then, there were flashes of himself – flashes of the Morningstar among his brothers, but Lucifer always turned Sam away from it. Always turned himself away from it. The white and the red of those wings were agonizing to behold next to the scorched and tattered flames that his wings were now.
He showed Sam the births of other angels, including the Angels of Days. All the while, basking in the warmth of God’s glow, of His Glory and His Grace. They lingered on the birth of Castiel as in the physical world, Michael cracked Sam’s bones under his grip. Heaven flickered orange, and so Lucifer healed the body outside before he took Sam to see other memories.
Lucifer did not hide his own fall from his vessel. Did not hide his own ugliness, not because he was proud, but because Sam already knew. Sam knew him to be hideous, and so there was no shame in showing how the Star of the Archangels became a shattered and wretched beast of fury. Michael was tossing them around, and Lucifer was curling up as needed, never striking as he showed Sam his own wretchedness, and the moment when he stopped being angry long enough to beg for love again. He showed Sam Death, and His Eternal Grace was similar to God’s yet ages different, aenos colder, and yet so burning hot.
Lucifer showed Sam the True Purpose. Showed Sam how souls were cleansed and how Reapers worked. Showed Sam the Eternity that became Lucifer’s home beneath the Cage. He confessed his own moments of deranged anger, of frustrated petulance, and hid nothing. Nothing of how ugly he had been, and the things he had done with the gift he was given – at first.
Michael growled in the Cage, and Lucifer showed Sam how a family was born in the true tiers of Hell. Michael fell away as Lucifer kept Sam cocooned in the memories, memories of things that had taken millennia to build, knowing that there would be time to tell longer tales. Time to explore individual stories. There was nothing but time within the Cage. Michael spoke again, and Lucifer left Sam with the laughter of a young boy who took his own life, and came to learn that an angel was ready to catch him anyway.
”God loves and watches over even the farthest fallen, my brother. I will not beg, but I will wait, as He does, for your eyes to open. All good things come in time,” Lucifer stated softly, non-confrontational and gentle, even as he raised his Grace and wings as a shield once more, and fell back into his own memories, Sam by his side, shielded mentally from whatever may come.
He was showing Sam the father he found in Death – revealing, in a way, how deep his foolish determination to overcome fate by winning the Apocalypse had truly been. He had used someone he admired, had abused someone who had treated him with respect, and it was just another black mark on his tattered Grace. They were reliving the moment when Death first mentioned that even the fallen were loved by God and were simply out of reach, when salvation came in the form of bloodsmoke. Mammon had delivered, sent Crowley to the Cage, and however she had inspired it, Lucifer knew he owed his daughter greatly, even as he knew he owed Crowley to a different extent.
The red coils of the demon pushed at him, and Lucifer opened his Grace to let the demon through to Sam. He let the memories go and pushed Sam into the demon’s coils, urging Crowley to hurry without making a sound, not daring to draw too much attention even though he knew – he knew – that Michael was all too aware of what might be happening. Which meant there was only one thing Lucifer could do.
As Crowley chanted to rise, Lucifer dove for Michael and grabbed at him, not attacking, so much as grappling, holding – restraining. He could buy Crowley time – but not much. The demon would have to be quick, and his Enochian – sweet merciful Allfather that accent – was slow. Holding Michael back was all that Lucifer could do, and being unwilling to truly harm Michael, there would only be a brief reprieve before the firstborn broke free.
And he did. Michael broke free and took hold of Sam's soul. Crowley got the body, but not the most important part of Sam. Not his essence. And as Michael stripped it, Lucifer's rage found itself born again. He attacked, careful to plunder the wings and the True Form - careful not to scar the vessel that was never meant to be Michael's. Yet for all his care toward Adam, Lucifer's rage toward Michael was extreme. Michael felt himself vindicated by it - proving Lucifer to be evil - but as soon as Sam's soul was dropped, Lucifer dove for it and left Michael to his devices.
Condemned to the Cage with Michael and a shattered soul, Lucifer settled upon the Cage perch in his full and natural form, taking up almost the whole of the space. His tail was curled up against his left haunches, and his broken wings were tucked close to his body to heal. His two foremost legs propped forward and had two heads resting on them, their eyes closed in slumber. On the right was the impossibly bright face of the Morningstar and on the left was the epic rage and fury of Satan.
His other three sets of forelegs were curled up in a catlike fashion, the necks of his maternal head and the one focused most on guidance curled up and nestled in an odd knot of themselves that was formed between the tangle of all the other necks, protected and safe from Michael's wrath. Raised high and alert was his inquisitive mind, always on the lookout, always imagining and creating ideas, while his glorification head seemed quite content to rest over the knotted nest and guard the two most sensitive faces. Tucked under his belly and gaurded by his paws, the broken soul was guarded from attack by an implacible dragon who seemed content to laze against the torments borne against its form. Reflection had caused Lucifer to come to the conclusion that the one he most needed to speak to was in fact the one to whom he owed the most – and the one whom was most likely to ignore his call.
Lucifer had known when he had seen the young Winchesters with the keys to his Cage that Death had simply handed his over. There had not been a single question in his mind of this, for though he had bound Death those ties were limited. The greatest regret that Lucifer had about the entire attempt to overthrow his father's wish and defeat Michael in the Apocalypse - greater than the pain he had caused his dear vessels - was the callous way he had treated the Great One. Though many would fear for their lives in Lucifer's position, it was not his primary reason for regret. For Lucifer it was fear of Death's disappointment, not his wrath, that made him ache for his actions.
Yet despite everything he had done, there had been a moment in the Cage when Death had come to rescue the precious soul that Lucifer had sacrificed his wings for again and again to keep safe from Michael's wrath. Seeing Death had the fallen angel feeling like a newly made child in desperate need of their parent's approval and support. Death had forgiven him in His own way, Lucifer knew, but it was not quite enough to put his conscience at ease for what he had done.
Death had not once approached him since he had been released from the Cage with Michael, and that was something that caused his wings to shiver in discomfort inside the vessel he had deceived. He yearned for the elder's opinions, and twice had stopped himself from seeking Death out to plead for his advice on matters. Lucifer felt that when Death was ready to speak to him, the Great One would choose to do so on his own terms. For this, despite how much Lucifer needed someone to look to as he set himself on this new path, he had kept his heads down and done his best. Death had not revealed him to Sam, though he could have - and for now, Lucifer took heart in that.
Sam was healing well from the Trials, though Lucifer was far from full form. Soon, he would reveal himself to the Winchester. He would also reveal the new plan. Inside Sam's mind, Lucifer knew that pieces of the wall still remained in tact, unknown to Sam. The Wall hid the truths of Heaven, Lucifer's memories, and the secrets of Hell. Death had put more effort in those containment areas than in any other section, much to Lucifer's relief.
Of course, Lucifer knew this meant he would have to find a way to earn Sam's trust without relying on those particular memories. That, Lucifer suspected, was going to be about as difficult as fixing Heaven.
Lucifer was the second born son of God, the younger brother of Michael and the elder brother of all the rest. He was born beautiful and bright, and he held nothing but a great and unconditional love for his younger siblings. He felt a need to guide and protect them, and when he was lost he turned to Michael or to God. In the beginning, Lucifer was surrounded by the love and favor of his Father and the adoration of his siblings. There was nothing he could have wanted for. Heaven was an endless, achingly ravishing Paradise in which everything felt right and there was no concept of wrong.
Yet God was not content with what he had already built. The lovely Earth and the delicate Heaven above was somehow not enough to satisfy the Allfather. So in his image he created Humanity, and he loved them above all other things – including the angels that had come long before the hairless apes and their insidious Free Will. Lucifer did not know, at the time of its inception, the concept of what rolled through him as he watched his brothers and sisters be forsaken in favor of the flawed creatures below. He did not understand the darkness that settled in his heart as his siblings, one by one, followed their Father’s decree and admired humans over one another. It would take centuries for Lucifer to understand that in those moments, he had given birth to the seeds of jealousy and bitterness.
He spoke out against God, not just for himself but for all of his siblings. It hurt to watch them debase themselves for these flawed creatures, and it angered him to not have the attention he was used to surrounding himself with. He was jealous, he was bitter, he was angry – and above all else, he was convinced that he was right. Lucifer refused to love Humanity more than God, and he refused to love them more than his siblings. They were murderous, treacherous, petty and small. They had no right being put above the angels; their place was beneath them, as the second born they ought to be the second loved.
Perhaps it was this ideal that lead to Lucifer’s banishment. Perhaps it was his pride and anger, perhaps it was God’s idea of irony to show the second son what being the second loved truly meant. Regardless, after standing up against God for himself and his siblings, Lucifer was faced down by Michael and cast from Heaven under the order of God. It was then that Lucifer gave birth to hatred, but not for God or even Michael. His hatred was not toward God for being angry, but for casting him aside. His hatred was not toward Michael for obeying the word of their Father, but for not even bothering to question it for the sake of a brother who loved him. For not even thinking to ask why.
Anger coursed through Lucifer and it was then that his temper came to the fore. He wanted God to see how much being torn from his home had hurt him – but above all else he wanted God to see precisely how flawed humans truly were. And from Hell he worked and weaved, twisting and warping a human soul with nothing more than whispered words and the idea of temptation. She became something else entirely, a creature no longer mortal, neither human nor angel, dark and completely impure in every way. Lilith, the first demon, was the first of Lucifer’s creations. He didn’t like her – was in fact rather bored by her – but there was something about what he had done – what he had made that intrigued him. Making things – even petty, cruel, dark things – was fun. He could see the allure. What he couldn’t understand was how you could like them simply because you made them.
Of course, God wasn’t all too impressed with someone going around breaking his toys and taking all the pretty out of them (As Lucifer viewed it, anyway) which promptly resulted in the time-out room otherwise known as the Cage. Very. Very. Boring. Place. To say Lucifer hated the Cage most of all would be the understatement of the millennia. There was nothing to do but whisper, and despite the sheer amount of demons he weaved up while trapped there, he was painfully, brutally alone. That, really, was what made him a bit quirky – but we’ll get to that later.
Eventually, the locks fell into place and Lucifer was let out of his cage thanks to two Winchesters and a dead firstborn. Really, not a bad price. He found a vessel in Nick, and with that part of the game set in motion, it was time to get down and dirty with the world cleansing. Like the other angels, Lucifer had felt God’s absence for a long time – at first, he had thought it was further punishment. It wasn’t until one of his whispering creations mentioned that God was gone that it occurred to him maybe something bigger was happening and so, he put out some feelers and began developing a plan. He knew what he was meant to do, according to all the scriptures, but Lucifer hated being predictable. That was – well – boring. So he figured if God was gone – why play by his rules?
Letting the Horsemen out to play was fun, though Death – eh. Death was troublesome, but manageable. The really frustrating bit was the little Winchester brothers and their consistent naysaying. They were pesky little humans – but Lucifer would be lying if he said he didn’t like their spark. They were far from boring – they were fun – and Lucifer, after a millennia of being locked up with nothing but demons around, had a healthy appreciation for fun things.
Things stopped being fun, however, a couple of times. First, when they convinced Gabriel to stand up to him. That had been disappointing, and it had caused Lucifer a deep pain to smite his little brother. Michael had always been his favorite, it was true, but then what little brother didn’t worship their older sibling? Of all the younger siblings he had, Gabriel had been among Lucifer’s most cherished. That was what earned him so quick and painless a death, rather than the usual torture that befell anyone who dared succeed in hurting Lucifer. In truth, Lucifer simply couldn’t bear to torment Gabriel in such a manner – it was easier to dispose of him quickly.
And then there had been Castiel. Blessed little Castiel and all his misplaced loyalty, so naive and young. Lucifer liked Castiel – he was a good angel – but then his loyalty to the Winchesters went one step too far. Where Castiel found the courage to deck Michael with holy fire, Lucifer would never know, but his rage had been fast and immediate. He hadn’t even hesitated in destroying the baby brother that time, though a fleeting regret hit him at the mess. As fun as exploded vessels were, exploding Grace was a painful way to go. For that, Lucifer felt a bit bad, but he had other, peskier problems at that point in time: Namely, Dean Winchester.
Lucifer honestly had no idea how Sam pulled it off, but somehow he actually pushed Lucifer back long enough to send him back into the Cage. Now admittedly, Lucifer would have been pissed beyond belief about this if it hadn’t been for three factors. One – he wasn’t alone, which meant he wouldn’t be bored. Two, Michael was with him, which meant maybe (just maybe) they could get some talking in between the beatings, and three, they had two vessels to play with in the meantime.
Except things didn't go as planned. Things went wrong, very wrong, and for five hundred years in the cage with Michael, Lucifer came to many realizations. Sam's body, then his soul were taken, leaving Lucifer alone but for his brother's endless rage. He accepted it for what it was and waited it through. When they were pulled out, Lucifer found his way back to Sam immediately, and earned a way back inside through deception. Though he hides within now, he has more plans than anyone would anticipate.
THE TRUTH BEHIND THE TALE
Lucifer did not sleep – it was not something that was programmed into his genetic make-up. He did not need to replenish himself through periodical reduction in his conscious awareness and the temporary inactivation of his voluntary muscles. When he was created by God, the Morningstar was made eternal and semi-omnipotent like Himself. A mighty dragon with six heads, eight legs and three wings, one might say in this day and age that God went a little overboard on the Morningstar just by taking the monstrosity of his true form into account.
Every head represented a distinct aspect of the Morningstar’s personality and yet all heads responded as one single consciousness, developing awareness and understanding of the differences between them while never actually being separate at all. If one head chose to rest itself, there was no dip in awareness so much as a drop in the ferocity of that particular aspect of the Morningstar’s disposition. None of the Morningstar’s heads actually needed sleep, or food, or any other substance to rejuvenate or keep themselves running. When a head chose to sleep, it did so for psychological reasons related to the avoidance of pain and frustration.
Each head possessed very distinct qualities, not just in personality but in appearance. With the Fall, the gentlest face had received a scar that marked it as disfigured – a symbolism not lost on Lucifer in even his happiest of moments. His heads developed a fierce protectiveness of that once motherly and eternally gentle face, which had only just begun to raise itself above for beings outside the precious, secret circle of pearls that Lucifer had so carefully collected and polished.
The world above told so many tales of the fiercely jealous way a dragon guarded its precious treasure, never understanding that pearls and gold had never meant to be ocean rocks and soft metals, but the transition of children as tainted shades were washed away until their inner purity shone through on their every scale. The fourty-nine Princes of Hell’s Second Tier were the most precious hoard of the universe, and the love Lucifer had for them transcended beyond the borders to stories of dragons and their gold, with never a soul understanding the truth that lay beneath the tales.
With a patience so long lasting and infinite as the one that had reached to each individual soul that had risen to become a Prince, it had taken Lucifer some time to understand that he would not get through to Michael. His brother, his eldest and most beautiful brother would not - could not - accept his words no matter how they were spoken. Lucifer had known that there were many who had forgotten his love for them. That after all his time locked away, he had become defiled so badly that even the oldest refused to remember that Lucifer had loved his brothers and sisters so deeply – so absolutely – that he had done something no other angel had ever thought to do. His reasons for questioning were completely lost to humanity, and had faded to obscurity in Heaven. Lucifer knew this. He accepted and understood the fact that his brethren could not bring themselves to question easily, so he had done it for them. Yet it seemed Michael, the eldest, the one who should be wisest, had forgotten all of this as well. Michael was so wrapped up in God's will that the very notion of a will of his own was lost in torment and rage.
Then, of course, there was Sam Winchester to take into account.
Images of Sam Winchester’s childhood had flashed forward so suddenly, so ferociously, that Lucifer had been caught entirely off guard by the intensity of the emotions. He had felt Sam fighting him from the moment he took hold, but it had been nothing more than the desperate cries of a lost soul – weak, and easily silenced. Lucifer had been driven, focused on his mission and determined to come out on the top of it all, to stand upon the ashes of the world and know that he had defeated the destiny set out for him by God. He knew his role had been specifically designed – knew that Hell needed him as its King, that Hell’s true purpose would be lost without him – but simply because he won the war didn’t mean he had to give up his job. He would prove to God that his story was his own, and no mere human was going to put a wrench into that.
What he had felt, the longing and the love that had consumed Sam Winchester’s soul as he stared at a seemingly innocuous toy soldier jammed into the Impala, had scorched his grace in a manner not known since the Fall itself. The fierce love of a brother, the desire to do anything – anything – it took to protect family, to sacrifice everything if it meant doing what was right and keeping them safe – was overwhelming and terrible. Lucifer faltered – he stepped back – and Sam took hold. The moment of the Winchester’s farewell sealed a fate in Lucifer’s grace even as it unlocked the terrible reality of revelation. It was as much Sam as it was Lucifer who had reached out and pulled Michael into the Cage, knowing that on his own Michael would find a way to ruin everything, without even meaning to do it.
The Cage was familiar to Lucifer, and he knew its every crevice well. He knew how to reach beyond it, to speak to his Princes and ensure that Hell remained in full functionality – but with Michael in the Cage it would be difficult at best to manage. For Lucifer had no intention of allowing Michael to learn of the Princes, nor would Michael come to learn of what God truly used Hell for. The Playpen was all that Michael saw – all that Lucifer could allow him to see – and orders were passed to disposable creatures that could do nothing but obey. The Princes got their orders second hand, but Lucifer had full faith they would know precisely what to do. It was the first thing Lucifer did when he landed in the Cage, but as soon as it was done, he had let go.
Lucifer knew his Cage well, but had never experienced it inside a vessel. He had let Sam go unthinkingly, focused as he was on ensuring that Hell’s true Kings received their orders. Once done, Lucifer had thrown himself to contemplation, to finding a way to correct the foolishness of what he had done while still trapped within the Cage. Sam Winchester had forced him to remember why he had rebelled – something that after so long, had become a bit torn and frayed around the edges. He remembered, fiercely now, and it killed him to realize how utterly impossibly foolish he had been to think that rewriting his destiny through death would do anything for the siblings he had sacrificed everything for.
The Cage did not suit Michael well, Lucifer fast came to discover. And lost as he was in his own thoughts and guilt, he did not quite hear the screaming of his vessel at the bottom of the Cage. Between avoiding Michael, trying to force Michael to listen or to talk, and just plain ignoring Michael’s frantic fury and fear while listening intently to the cries on the angel radio that tore him asunder, there was no thought to looking down. In Hell, there were so many screams that Sam’s was lost to him.
It wasn’t until they fell silent that Lucifer even realized what had occurred. Scarred wings expanded ferociously and without warning in the Cage, buffeting Michael and his vessel aside as Lucifer realized what he had inadvertently allowed to befall the human that had unchained his true self, reminded him so fiercely of what he truly was. Looking down, he saw Sam’s tortured body collapsed in the flames, and his grace twisted in pain at the sight. Diving down, Lucifer took hold of Sam once more, using his grace to heal the broken body even as his wings folded around the form to protect it from the flames. He could feel the tattered edges of Sam’s broken soul and was appalled at his own negligence.
Sam, Lucifer tried, desperately reaching for what consciousness was left to the human, pulling back against what was slowly fading, refusing to allow Sam to slip into the true pits, to become a black and twisted son of Hell. Little one! The cry was unexpectedly panicked, his wings rising defensively, angrily. He could feel Sam slipping, his strength was so faint, and Lucifer despised himself for not noticing. It had been years – years – and he was lucky there was any sign of Sam to dig into and pull from the brink even remotely.
Lucifer could not recall the last time his grace had felt so strained, so deeply pained, as in the moment he feared he had lost the one that had reminded him why he had been willing to fall. The only thing that came close, was the moment he had realized that God wasn’t listening, and Michael didn’t care.
He could feel reality and sensibility returning to Sam, slowly and so achingly painfully. There was such a weight of terror on the soul inside, so much which had been frayed and torn, that Lucifer genuinely did not know if he would succeed. It was touch and go for awhile there, but eventually the soul restored and Lucifer could feel Sam shifting. He could sense Michael closing in, but it was too soon to move Sam just yet. His wings fanned, a sign of warning, as his grace continued to calm and soothe.
Taking full charge of the vessel for just a span of a moment, Lucifer brought Sam to his perch within the Cage, high above the fires and the cement, above Michael and his pacing. Lucifer had no idea how long it would take for Michael to grow accustomed to the Cage, but he did know one thing. This Cage was not built for humans. I will get you out of here, Sam Winchester. So please, hold onto me, and give me time. I will keep you safe.
The promise resounded through Lucifer’s grace, powerful and compelling, as fiercely determined as he had been not so long ago, when he had believed that he was going to defeat God’s plan for him. There would be better ways, there would come a day when the Cage opened again – and when it did, Lucifer would be ready. He would escape Michael and he would do what he should have done from the beginning.
He would refuse to fight his brother.
But that was time neither here, nor now. What mattered in this moment was ensuring that Sam Winchester survived the Cage as intact as possible. His grace remained focused, calming and gentle as he settled back into the outcropping in the Cage that had been his nest for millennia. It was familiar and had been made into something comfortable for an angel without a vessel. It would likely be less so for a human, but Lucifer knew it was better than the floor, and with his grace inside of Sam, the perch would at least be somewhat pleasant. Now, all they had to do was wait - and there was no telling how long.
Hearing Michael's call even as he felt Sam's lack of trust, Lucifer calmly laced his feathers tightly together, making the protective ball around Sam as tight as possible. It would last as long as it took Michael to tear his wings out, at which point Lucifer would dive. It was the same game every time, Michael's rage always finding the same painful outlets. In the Cage, Lucifer had learned a terrifying truth about himself and his brother.
If he ever chose to fight back, Michael would lose.
Michael came on fiercely, he came on like a child in a rage, with no concept of long term strategy or even short term tactics. Torture was not his forte if the lack of creativity was anything to go by. The cruelty and warfare that had surrounded Lucifer for aeons had never been introduced to Michael. The elder had never known the sting of being seperated, had never known the agony of having his wings clipped and torn, had never learned the true meaning of being wounded.
There was once a time when Lucifer might have been angry enough to teach Michael such matters, but it had passed. So instead the Devil suffered under his elder brother with the knowledge that he could stop it, if he was willing to turn such cruelties on the one he had loved the most. The one who had never once looked down from his perch to see the admiration offered him.
Michael's taunts were pitifully childish, and within Sam the Devil couldn't help but sigh at them. Fear had driven him back into Sam, it was true. Fear for the loss of a human soul that had given so much without ever realizing precisely how much he would alter in doing so. He had been deaf to Sam's torment until it had gone quiet, a sign that he was perhaps too used to Hell's background noises.
It was saddening to realize that even Michael had forgotten Lucifer's true nature, but then again Michael had never really noticed it in the Beginning. Within Sam, Lucifer shifted uncomfortably as he realized Michael had likely believed the twisted tales of Lucifer more readily than the other angels, accepting the fall of the Morningstar without thought or question.
Reaching his grace out, Lucifer connected to the red eyed demon that always seemed to be lurking just outside the Cage. She was intimately familiar with this method of communication, just as he was, and she knew precisely what he wanted even as he sent his orders through. She disappeared as Michael taunted again, this time speaking of Sam leaving and dying. Threatening to kill Sam himself. Lucifer sighed again.
He will not kill you, Sam. Lucifer promised his vessel quietly, remaining where he was for now, knowing that the best defense he had for Sam was himself as a grace-shield. Michael could tear and render him asunder, but the vessel would be safe. It would not be long before Mammon would be able to twist someone into pulling Sam out of the Cage - inspiration was something she was good at. Until then, he would bear Michael's rage for Sam, and keep the vessel company in the long dark nights of the Cage in the rare moments when Michael rested.
Lucifer knew hatred, was intimately familiar with pain in all its forms, majestic and miserable. He knew agony and he knew wretchedness, he had been surrounded by it, embraced by it, cast down to it. These were things he had known, for a time, better than he had even known himself. He knew the truth in terror, the fear in being forgotten, and the hopelessness of Hell’s Cage. Lucifer knew how to go down, knew where the door to the Second Tier was. He could have escaped, for though there was no way upward there was peace in the world below. He could have taken Sam there, let him see that hidden truth, but he didn’t.
Lucifer had been exactly as Michael was now, without knowing about the fact that there was so much more than what was on the surface, He understood the fear and the sorrow, the all-consuming pain and mind altering rage. Understanding was something he could offer Michael, but it was more than his love for his brother, more than his desire to keep Michael company, that kept Lucifer from abandoning his brother to the Cage.
It was because to do so would mean that there had always been more to Lucifer’s imprisonment, and the fallen Morningstar had enough sense to know Michael would not take well to the realization. It was because to do so would cause a big enough change in Michael’s perceptions that it could potentially fill him with enough doubt to fall. But ultimately, as horrible as these truths were, it was the fact that Lucifer could not bear to risk revealing the family he had built in the absence of Heaven. So instead he suffered, instead he allowed Michael to rage and use him as an outlet, and when he had been on his own, this had been fine.
It was harder to do when there was Sam to protect as well.
There would be no escaping the attacks, Lucifer knew, but there were ways to escape the pain. As Michael’s voice filled the Cage with rage, as the elder archangel unleashed the brunt of his fury, Lucifer cloaked Sam’s mind with visions of another reality. He took Sam’s consciousness from the harsh reality of the Cage – and showed him Heaven instead.
Standing in the world of their shared mind, Lucifer too was somewhat dulled to the pain as he curved a wing around Sam and urged him forward. He showed Sam his own memories, and allowed his vessel to see what Heaven had been like, before the fall. He introduced Sam to God Himself, to the glory of His wings and the warmth of His Grace. He showed Sam Michael, showed Sam the beauty of the brother that now raged, lost and infuriated in a Cage that was never meant for him.
Even in memories, Michael’s Grace was distant. His beauty was without question, his dedication without rival, but there was a coldness to him. It was as lovely as everything else – but even then. Even then, it had been there. Even in memory, it was hard to realize and so Lucifer pulled them away from this memory as, in the physical world, Michael kicked them into a wall.
Lucifer showed Sam the births of angels. Of Raphael and Gabriel, their beauty and their amazing smallness. To Lucifer, that had been small, so very small and perfect. Now and then, there were flashes of himself – flashes of the Morningstar among his brothers, but Lucifer always turned Sam away from it. Always turned himself away from it. The white and the red of those wings were agonizing to behold next to the scorched and tattered flames that his wings were now.
He showed Sam the births of other angels, including the Angels of Days. All the while, basking in the warmth of God’s glow, of His Glory and His Grace. They lingered on the birth of Castiel as in the physical world, Michael cracked Sam’s bones under his grip. Heaven flickered orange, and so Lucifer healed the body outside before he took Sam to see other memories.
Lucifer did not hide his own fall from his vessel. Did not hide his own ugliness, not because he was proud, but because Sam already knew. Sam knew him to be hideous, and so there was no shame in showing how the Star of the Archangels became a shattered and wretched beast of fury. Michael was tossing them around, and Lucifer was curling up as needed, never striking as he showed Sam his own wretchedness, and the moment when he stopped being angry long enough to beg for love again. He showed Sam Death, and His Eternal Grace was similar to God’s yet ages different, aenos colder, and yet so burning hot.
Lucifer showed Sam the True Purpose. Showed Sam how souls were cleansed and how Reapers worked. Showed Sam the Eternity that became Lucifer’s home beneath the Cage. He confessed his own moments of deranged anger, of frustrated petulance, and hid nothing. Nothing of how ugly he had been, and the things he had done with the gift he was given – at first.
Michael growled in the Cage, and Lucifer showed Sam how a family was born in the true tiers of Hell. Michael fell away as Lucifer kept Sam cocooned in the memories, memories of things that had taken millennia to build, knowing that there would be time to tell longer tales. Time to explore individual stories. There was nothing but time within the Cage. Michael spoke again, and Lucifer left Sam with the laughter of a young boy who took his own life, and came to learn that an angel was ready to catch him anyway.
”God loves and watches over even the farthest fallen, my brother. I will not beg, but I will wait, as He does, for your eyes to open. All good things come in time,” Lucifer stated softly, non-confrontational and gentle, even as he raised his Grace and wings as a shield once more, and fell back into his own memories, Sam by his side, shielded mentally from whatever may come.
He was showing Sam the father he found in Death – revealing, in a way, how deep his foolish determination to overcome fate by winning the Apocalypse had truly been. He had used someone he admired, had abused someone who had treated him with respect, and it was just another black mark on his tattered Grace. They were reliving the moment when Death first mentioned that even the fallen were loved by God and were simply out of reach, when salvation came in the form of bloodsmoke. Mammon had delivered, sent Crowley to the Cage, and however she had inspired it, Lucifer knew he owed his daughter greatly, even as he knew he owed Crowley to a different extent.
The red coils of the demon pushed at him, and Lucifer opened his Grace to let the demon through to Sam. He let the memories go and pushed Sam into the demon’s coils, urging Crowley to hurry without making a sound, not daring to draw too much attention even though he knew – he knew – that Michael was all too aware of what might be happening. Which meant there was only one thing Lucifer could do.
As Crowley chanted to rise, Lucifer dove for Michael and grabbed at him, not attacking, so much as grappling, holding – restraining. He could buy Crowley time – but not much. The demon would have to be quick, and his Enochian – sweet merciful Allfather that accent – was slow. Holding Michael back was all that Lucifer could do, and being unwilling to truly harm Michael, there would only be a brief reprieve before the firstborn broke free.
And he did. Michael broke free and took hold of Sam's soul. Crowley got the body, but not the most important part of Sam. Not his essence. And as Michael stripped it, Lucifer's rage found itself born again. He attacked, careful to plunder the wings and the True Form - careful not to scar the vessel that was never meant to be Michael's. Yet for all his care toward Adam, Lucifer's rage toward Michael was extreme. Michael felt himself vindicated by it - proving Lucifer to be evil - but as soon as Sam's soul was dropped, Lucifer dove for it and left Michael to his devices.
Condemned to the Cage with Michael and a shattered soul, Lucifer settled upon the Cage perch in his full and natural form, taking up almost the whole of the space. His tail was curled up against his left haunches, and his broken wings were tucked close to his body to heal. His two foremost legs propped forward and had two heads resting on them, their eyes closed in slumber. On the right was the impossibly bright face of the Morningstar and on the left was the epic rage and fury of Satan.
His other three sets of forelegs were curled up in a catlike fashion, the necks of his maternal head and the one focused most on guidance curled up and nestled in an odd knot of themselves that was formed between the tangle of all the other necks, protected and safe from Michael's wrath. Raised high and alert was his inquisitive mind, always on the lookout, always imagining and creating ideas, while his glorification head seemed quite content to rest over the knotted nest and guard the two most sensitive faces. Tucked under his belly and gaurded by his paws, the broken soul was guarded from attack by an implacible dragon who seemed content to laze against the torments borne against its form. Reflection had caused Lucifer to come to the conclusion that the one he most needed to speak to was in fact the one to whom he owed the most – and the one whom was most likely to ignore his call.
Lucifer had known when he had seen the young Winchesters with the keys to his Cage that Death had simply handed his over. There had not been a single question in his mind of this, for though he had bound Death those ties were limited. The greatest regret that Lucifer had about the entire attempt to overthrow his father's wish and defeat Michael in the Apocalypse - greater than the pain he had caused his dear vessels - was the callous way he had treated the Great One. Though many would fear for their lives in Lucifer's position, it was not his primary reason for regret. For Lucifer it was fear of Death's disappointment, not his wrath, that made him ache for his actions.
Yet despite everything he had done, there had been a moment in the Cage when Death had come to rescue the precious soul that Lucifer had sacrificed his wings for again and again to keep safe from Michael's wrath. Seeing Death had the fallen angel feeling like a newly made child in desperate need of their parent's approval and support. Death had forgiven him in His own way, Lucifer knew, but it was not quite enough to put his conscience at ease for what he had done.
Death had not once approached him since he had been released from the Cage with Michael, and that was something that caused his wings to shiver in discomfort inside the vessel he had deceived. He yearned for the elder's opinions, and twice had stopped himself from seeking Death out to plead for his advice on matters. Lucifer felt that when Death was ready to speak to him, the Great One would choose to do so on his own terms. For this, despite how much Lucifer needed someone to look to as he set himself on this new path, he had kept his heads down and done his best. Death had not revealed him to Sam, though he could have - and for now, Lucifer took heart in that.
Sam was healing well from the Trials, though Lucifer was far from full form. Soon, he would reveal himself to the Winchester. He would also reveal the new plan. Inside Sam's mind, Lucifer knew that pieces of the wall still remained in tact, unknown to Sam. The Wall hid the truths of Heaven, Lucifer's memories, and the secrets of Hell. Death had put more effort in those containment areas than in any other section, much to Lucifer's relief.
Of course, Lucifer knew this meant he would have to find a way to earn Sam's trust without relying on those particular memories. That, Lucifer suspected, was going to be about as difficult as fixing Heaven.