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Anger and desperation lanced through him, as he took in the scene around him. Sam and Dean and more importantly Jack staring at him with reprobation, betrayal, fear, hatred. It always came down to this. Nothing he ever did, ever tried to do, was good enough. They thought he was evil to the core, well, then, I guess I am. He let out a feral roar, his eyes flaming red just to watch the disgust curl across their faces. His son abandoning him just like his father had. Just like Sam, his true vessel, had.
An even darker feeling curled low in his belly and you burst into the room, eyes lighting up to see him as you called, “Lucifer!” No one else said his name like that. Apparently heedless of the tension in the room, the hatred all around him, you rushed forward, a solid presence at his side. “I thought you were dead, oh, are you okay?”
“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated, eh, Sammy?” He snarled. You sensed his despair and looked up at him in confusion.
Sam had the grace to look a little askance as he answered, “I knew he would betray us eventually, I left him behind.”
“You abandoned him in that place, after we all had a deal?” Righteous anger not directed at him. A nice change of pace.
“I was right, too!” Sam shouted, “Ask him about the deal with Michael Two to destroy our world.”
His heart - if he had one - sank. Now you would abandon him, too. He tried to etch this moment in his memory, your presence at his side, crossing to him in front of everyone. The last moments before the poison against him ruined you to him forever.
You turned around, back to the rest of the room, one hand remaining where it had been on his chest, over his heart - damn that thing - the other reaching up to cup his cheek. He tried to avoid your gaze, keep the rage simmering in them flashing towards the rest of the room, but a soft, “hey, look at me,” was all it took.
Dread coiled inside him at your disappointment, anger, hatred, but your expression was at least neutral. He refused to speculate about anything else.
“Is that true?”
What could he say? He bit out a feral assent, with it damning himself. The tension radiating from his body was unbearable. Tears pricked your eyes.
“I - I don’t - “ you paused, he willed you to go on, his lungs in a vise. “Just, I know that sounds bad, but I know you’re not bad, not now if you ever were, and I love you, Lucifer, truly I do, no matter what.” His whole being trembled, he could feel heat behind his eyes - damn this human vessel - felt his throat making strangled noises, until you pulled him in for a hug.
“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.
“Uh, hello, did you miss the part about destroying our world?” Sam snarked from behind.
“He wouldn’t have had to make a deal to get out of the apocalypse world if you hadn’t abandoned him there. Do you blame him for not caring after that less than stellar example of humanity?”
He didn’t like to think of himself as a sap, but this, this was what living must be for, being defended, from accusers, from his own self-hating thoughts, propped up, and thought better than he was, made better than he was by his beautiful lover who said beautiful things and made him feel so whole he almost forgot he was ever broken, so loved he forgot he was unloveable.
“I love you, Lucifer, I’ve got your back, always.” You kissed a tear he didn’t realize was there off his cheek.