"I need your help, Dean… And Sam's, too."
"Why would we help you, Lucifer?"
"Because, regrettably, I'm on your team, now."
"You call that a throw? A friggin' grandma could throw better than that," the older Winchester growled out in mild irritation as he soaked up spilled beer in the bunker's kitchen with a hand towel, trying his best to avoid the broken glass bits here and there. His green eyes remained trained on the ground, not bothering to glance up at his brother, who rolled his own lighter green eyes.
"It's not that I can't throw: it's that you can't catch," Sam muttered as he went to go find a broom to help clean up.
"Do you boys always bicker like this? How haven't you… I don't know… killed each other, yet?" The sound of a familiar (and not in a good way, familiar) voice startled both boys.
Dean, scrambled to his feet, managing to cut his right hand on a large shard of glass as he grabbed the half-broken beer bottle to defend himself. Not that it would actually do any good when it came down to their intruder.
Sam scrambled out of the room, intending to look for a better weapon to defend the pair with, leaving Dean and the intruder alone, for now.
"Lucifer…" The name slipped past Dean's lips with both fear and anger as he carefully watched the archangel's movements.
But, with a better look at him, Dean realized that even if Lucifer wanted to hurt them, he couldn't. Not in his state. Lucifer was leaning against the doorway, covered in blood. His own blood. Lucifer could bleed? Scratches littered visible skin, and his clothes were ripped in various places. He had a black eye forming, and his lip had a gash in it. There was a particularly large cut on his neck- no, more like a gash. A wound that deep would kill a human easily. His usually blonde hair was matted with blood, and he kept one of his blue eyes closed (the one that looked to be forming a black eye). He looked like Hell.
Dean's thoughts on how threatening Lucifer was in this state were only confirmed as Lucifer spoke: "I'm not here to… h-hurt you, Dean… not Sam, either." Lucifer's words were labored as if he was struggling to get them out.
Despite the Devil's state, Dean remained cautious, keeping the broken bottle up, just in case he really had to use it in a fight. "Then why are you here?"
"I… I…" He fumbled over his words as if he was unable to find the right reply. But before he could respond, Lucifer suddenly collapsed, hitting the floor with an ungraceful thud. He made no move to catch himself; he was out cold. For any other creature, it could be blamed on blood loss, but this was Lucifer. It was impossible to know with him.
Dean's first thought was to figure out how to kill him while he was weak and unable to fight back, but, with a little more thought, it became obvious that something big had gone down. Something that could hurt Lucifer. Had Lucifer come to warn them? He couldn't be sure until Lucifer returned to the waking world. It was terrifying to think about. Even more so when Dean remembered the fact that angels didn't need to sleep.
Sam returned with an angel blade in hand, but he only became confused when he saw Lucifer's practically unmoving form on the floor. Only the shallow breaths he drew in and out hinted at the fact that the archangel was even still alive. "What happened?"
"I… I don't know. He was tryin' to tell me something, and he just kinda… fell."
"Is that blood? His blood?"
"I think so… I- I don't know, man- how would I know?"
"Well, I thought maybe you cut him or something-"
"No, no, he just showed up lookin' like that!"
"Well, um… what, uh… should- should we do?" Same set the angel blade down on the counter, seeing as it wasn't needed at the moment, going over to look at the downed angel.
"I… I don't know... should… should we, uh… kill him? Or…?" Dean threw that option out for debate, unsure of what else to do.
"No, no, Dean, it doesn't make any sense. Why would Lucifer come here? He knows that you would kill him on sight. I mean, for how weak he is right now, it wouldn't be difficult… and Lucifer is smart. He wouldn't come here just to sign his own death warrant."
Sam's logic made sense. After all, Dean was thinking similarly. "So, he came here knowing full well that we wouldn't kill him?"
"Pretty much."
"Well, let's, at least, lock him up. Can't be too careful, you know." Dean finally set down his broken bottle, going over to help Sam move Lucifer into the dungeon of the bunker, where he would be held until further notice.
Several hours passed before the archangel came to. When he did finally open his blue eyes, letting out a small groan, as he was unused to sleep, he found himself in chains. A shackle around his neck, a chain connecting his wrists together, and chains keeping him tied to the uncomfortable chair he was kept in. He couldn't see much for a moment, as the dungeon was dark. His eyes soon adjusted, however, and he could make out Dean's figure in the corner, watching him.
"Ooh, Dean~ You look like you're gonna eat me alive~" Lucifer's voice cracked under exhaustion, and it remained low, although casual and playful, despite the situation. He adjusted himself as much as he could so that he could feel more comfortable in his new prison. The chains jingled with his movement, reminding him that they were there. He glanced at his wrists, seeing the chains, and the one that led up to his neck, then he moved his gaze to Dean with a smug smile. "Dean, you kinky bastard."
"Shut up." Dean already had more than enough of Lucifer's shenanigans, already wanting this encounter to be over. But, little did he know, it was far from.
Lucifer, however, did actually go silent for awhile. Maybe he was in pain. Maybe he was still recovering from his little nap.
The blood had dried on him by now, outlining some of the wounds that had previously been hidden underneath the thick layer of blood. His healing wasn't working. They hadn't changed in the slightest since he'd gotten them. If he moved too much, it was likely he'd reopen some of them (he had actually reopened a few when he fell, but he'd already been covered in blood at that point, and it was difficult to tell he was still bleeding.)
After a few minutes, Lucifer spoke up once more. "Where's Sammy? I imagine he's going to be much more reasonable than you. Or have you banned him from seeing me? Still paranoid that I'm after him?"
"He's busy. Why are you here?" Dean's tone was incredibly serious, whereas Lucifer's remained casual… however, still tired.
"No beating around the bush with you, huh?" It was clear that Lucifer wanted to speak to Sam, and only Sam, preferably, but Dean knew that Lucifer wasn't the one in charge right now. For the moment being, Dean was in control, and he asserted said control.
"I'll ask you one more time before I get a damn angel blade and stab you through the friggin' heart, got it? Why are you here?"
Lucifer sighed, mildly annoyed that he wasn't going to get his way – and he knew it – this time, going silent for a few moments and averting his gaze. He was ashamed for whatever reason, that much was clear to Dean. And then it became obvious once the Devil spoke: "I need your help, Dean… And Sam's, too."
"Why would we help you, Lucifer?"
"Because, regrettably, I'm on your team, now."
Dean scoffed, not believing a damn word that was coming out of the angel's mouth.
"Of course you don't believe me…" Another sigh escaped Lucifer's lips as he avoided making eye contact. This was really uncomfortable for him. He definitely preferred to speak to Sam. "Dean, please…"
He was practically begging, but Dean was still uncertain. He didn't reply, watching Lucifer carefully. What was his play? Was he trying to trick Sam into saying 'yes' to him? No, that wouldn't make sense, since Nick was now Lucifer's permanent vessel. Maybe he was trying to make a fool out of the pair? Maybe he was trying to catch them off-guard and kill them?
His thoughts were interrupted by Lucifer's voice. "You cut your hand earlier… when I first got here…?"
Dean nodded just slightly, skeptical and unsure of what was going to happen next. He held his injured hand with his uninjured one, as Lucifer had reminded him of the stinging sensation he still felt in the palm of his hand. It was a pretty deep cut, but nothing that wouldn't heal with time.
Lucifer then held one of his hands out to Dean, beckoning him to come closer to him, the chains jingling and interrupting the heavy silence that rested between the pair.
Dean's green eyes studied Lucifer, looking for any evil intent. He didn't trust him. Not enough to come any closer than he already was. "No way in hell-"
Lucifer interrupted his refusal: "Thirty seconds- no… no, ten. Ten seconds of trust. That's all I'm asking for. And if you still decide you don't believe me…" His blue eyes pierced into Dean's green ones as he quoted Dean, "then 'get a damn angel blade and stab me through the heart.'"
Ten seconds? That was a lot of time for Lucifer. Too much, Dean decided. "Five."
"Fine," Lucifer impatiently agreed, "get over here."
Dean hesitantly went over to Lucifer, who took his injured hand in both of his own. Dean braced himself for pain, as he expected Lucifer to use his injury against him, but he only felt a small sting, and then a tingling sensation.
Startled, the older Winchester quickly jerked his hand away from the archangel, fear momentarily flashing in his eyes. He looked down at his hand – down at the cut – but his injury was no longer there; Lucifer had healed him.
His words were laced with an underlying tone of frustration, as he just couldn't understand why Lucifer was doing this, but confusion was the primary emotion: "I don't understand…"
"Then let me spell it out for you: I just used the last of my grace to heal you. I could have used it to escape. Hell, I could have used it to fix this, Dad knows I need it." Lucifer gestured to himself with his last statement, then tapped the gash on his lip, flinching at the sudden sting he felt, as he was unused to the pain. "But no. I used it on you, Dean."
"Why? And what do you mean by 'the last of your grace'?" Dean had several questions running through his head, but he focused on those two, for now.
"Why? Really, Dean? Do you have to ask?" Lucifer rolled his eyes and answered, "to show you that you can trust me! I need your help, for Dad's sake! Please!" He seemed irritated, but he quickly calmed himself down, deciding it would be against his best interests to lose his temper at the moment.
Dean noted just how desperate Lucifer sounded. He was serious about all this… and, right now, Dean was honestly inclined to believe him.
"And your grace?" Dean asked, still wondering what he meant by that.
"Well, I…" Lucifer didn't want to say it. He really was ashamed… disgusted, even. He tugged at the chains that held him, which made Dean tense, as he knew Lucifer was fully capable of just breaking them. He readied himself to stop Lucifer, but, to his surprise, Lucifer struggled, unable to break the chains. Normally, Lucifer would be able to tear right through them…
Lucifer's shame-filled voice broke through the jingling of the chains, grabbing Dean's attention. "I'm like you, now. My wings have been clipped."
To be continued.