Chapter Text
Lucifer wasn’t sure what brought him to this place. It was almost ironic - the Devil going to Church. Yet here the fallen Archangel was, standing in front of one of his father’s ‘homes’ and looking up at the tall imposing building before him.
He always thought that churches looked so lonely and cold. And this one was no different. Even with its decorations of saints and angels, it didn’t bought Lucifer any sense of comfort or safety. The angels looked almost merciless, looking down at him accusingly as if daring him to come closer and taint the holy place with his presence. He knew he wasn’t welcome, nor would he ever be, so why he had bothered coming here was beyond him. To seek redemption perhaps? A quiet place to sit down and think? To try and talk to a father who would never listen or hear his pleas? Lucifer shook his head, balling his fists. He had already lost everything; everyone hated him and everything he ever cared for or loved or had hope in was destroyed in front of his very eyes as he was left to pick up the broken pieces. Why should he keep fighting when there was no hope left for him anyways?
But perhaps that is why he had come. A small part of him still held hope. In what, he didn’t knew, and unknowingly he had come here to try and see if he had made the right choice. With a world turned against him and seeing him as nothing but evil… what was left for him but to become the Devil everyone saw him as? It was all he had left.
It wasn’t like Lucifer wanted all of this to happen. He didn’t want to kill his younger brother, he never wanted the apocalypse, but he never had enough control over the situation to try and stop it. Michael wouldn’t listen to him and only pushed the knife deeper into his heart by proving that he sees him as a monster and a freak, showing him that all the love and understanding that was between them once, was all gone. Hurt wouldn’t come close to describe how he felt… Lucifer felt completely and utterly shattered.
And only because he refused to love someone more than his own family.
Shaking his head to clear his mind, he shook out his large pink wings as he got ready to fly off again, not finding the strength to pass the accusing look of the stone angels, when he noticed that he wasn’t alone. He could sense another presence. Curiously, the angel tilted his head and took a step inside the church - he wasn’t sure why, but somehow he found himself curious enough to investigate. It gave him the courage he had been searching for without even realizing it.
The heavy door creaked open and Lucifer’s head poked in, blond hair stuck in all directions as he looked around. He noticed a lone figure sitting in front of the altar, curled in on himself and crying softly. The angel tilted his head and blinked when he recognized the man to be Sam Winchester himself. Doubting, Lucifer stayed by the door, unsure if he should leave and act like he didn’t saw anything, or go forward.
Closing his eyes for one second and cursing out everything that was holy and might be listening, he decided he was already doomed enough and might as well do it. He went closer, his steps unheard by Sam who was still crying. Lucifer’s wings rustled in unease and he frowned, normally Sam would have noticed him by now, so the Archangel knew that something was wrong.
Not wanting to startle him too much, he cleared his throat once to make Sam aware of the fact he wasn’t alone anymore. As he suspected, the hunter jumped up to his feet, and when he saw it was him, there was a gun in his hands and pointed at his face. Lucifer knew that a gun wouldn’t work against him, but it didn’t stop the knife from twisting even deeper into his already bleeding heart.
“I didn’t come here to fight. Or even for you,” he spoke, his voice sounding dull and unrecognizable even to his own ears, “I came here for me.”
Slowly, Sam lowered his gun, seemingly more surprised at doing so than Lucifer. Maybe it was something in his voice or his eyes, but Sam seemed to believe him. “You might as well join the pity party,” Sam said, flopping back down on the floor and facing the altar again, “tea is at noon and cookies are at two.”
Lucifer frowned. “But I don’t eat,” he said, baffled why Sam would even offer him cookies. He never had cookies before, or any kind of food. He never had to.
A light chuckle came from Sam. “That was a joke. Don’t take it literal,” he said with a shake of his head. Sam didn’t say anything else and instead stayed in front of the altar, looking up at a large decorative cross hanging on the wall in front of him.
For a while, Lucifer stayed where he was and didn’t move, weighing his opinions. He could either leave, he doubted Sam would really hold it against him, or he could join him. Shoulders slumping in defeat, the Devil went over cautiously and sat down by the hunter’s side. He kept his distance, not wanting Sam to feel uncomfortable or cross any boundaries. He could feel Sam’s gaze on him but Lucifer stubbornly looked ahead, glaring at the cross with his plumage puffed up.
Sam looked back at the cross as well and they sat side-by-side for quite some time. They weren’t talking, but Lucifer didn’t find himself minding much. “What happened?” Sam finally asked him, still looking ahead.
Lucifer wrapped his wings around himself. It seemed like Sam knew very well how much of a mess he was when he stumbled into the church. “Being the Devil is what happened,” he grumbled. He could feel Sam’s gaze swift to him again but he stubbornly glared at the cross, refusing to meet his eyes. Neither knew what to say to that and an almost awkward silence fell between them. Lucifer felt the silence crushing him, tearing at his bleeding heart and wrapping him up in a blanket that did not provide any warmth. Wings trembling, he tightly kept them around his hunched form in a poor attempt to bring himself some comfort.
Without needing to be prompted, clearly having all those feelings building up as well, Sam started pouring out words. “I failed. I failed everyone,” the man whispered, hanging his head, “I couldn’t save them and ruined everything.”
Pulling back his wings, Lucifer looked at him. At those hunched shoulders that carried a weight he didn’t need to carry. At how similar they were. That was why Lucifer didn’t disagree with him because he knew better - Sam was much like himself in that way, and if someone tried to tell him he wasn’t a failure, he wouldn’t believe it. So instead, he said something else, referring to himself in barely a whisper.
“You saved one soul more than your brother.” Thank you for not pushing me away . Looking up at the cross again, he thought that perhaps it might not be too late for him after all. He could try again.