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The first time he fell, it was like a sonic boom.
Lucifer had asked him to follow him straight into literal hell. And like a good and loyal seraph does, he tripped and fell from Heaven arse first to the earth. Made sure he fed a different story to the big guy, though.
Thankfully, no one was around to tell Lucifer what actually happened.
Sometimes, though, his memory plays tricks on him and he thinks he remembers blue eyes watching his fall with curiosity.
And sometimes, on nights where he admits to loneliness, he hopes he saw pity there, too.
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The second time he fell, he’d wanted to. Still hurt, though.
Azazel was the only one who understood his doubts. Well, before they both fell. After, Azazel clung to the absurd belief that Lucifer could fix everything. That Lucifer wanted to.
That didn’t matter anymore.
Azazel died, and he was next in line. And he didn’t want to be killed by two lost boy wannabes.
Ripping out his princely power to fall into disguise...? Well, fill in the rest with your best pun.
He raised his best scotch to Azazel that night. And his dreams turned golden eyes to blue....
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The third time he fell, it was mutiny.
The demons wanted Lucifer. Like he cared for the lot of them. Lucifer wanted them dead as soon as their usefulness ran out. Forgive a king for protecting his subjects from that, even if he had to punish some causing him stress.
He knew it was that bird’s fault for creating a state of unease around his power level with that whole New God business. But if they thought Lucifer was more stable, more suited than someone with a properly twisted heart?
His daddy issues were just the tip of the iceberg.
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The fourth time he fell, he didn’t even realize it until it was too late, and he had crashed gracelessly into the abyss like he was a baby angel with no idea of what he was doing.
Yes, the bloody moron almost killed himself refusing to take another angel’s grace. And he refused to work with the king of hell whenever fate brought them together. They were leather and lace. Oil and water. Hell and heaven.
But apparently, his twisted heart still held enough grace in it to fall for a seraph. Yet...
Yet, somehow, he didn’t mind this fall.
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The last time he fell, it was a necessary sacrifice.
Dean was getting his arse kicked by an angel, but that happened practically every week. It certainly wasn’t the first time that angel was the devil himself.
“...That’s everything.”
No, it’s not.
Bollocks.
He would have to sacrifice himself. Pity there wouldn’t be one more glimpse of blue for him, though.
Why couldn’t these morons save him for once? It’s what he deserved for falling, he supposed. It was certainly what he deserved for running around with Winchesters.
Bye, boys.
Yet, somehow, he still preferred the ground to the sky.