Precursor Note: I didn't see anyone else writing one of these (I've literally only seen two stories about what Crowley might be doing with dear Luci between FFN and Ao3), so here we go! Oh, and there's a bit of fluff at the end because I can't write H/C without a bit of fluff feels to go with all the hurt – that's why it's definitely AU by the end.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. If I did, do you think I would be putting this up here?

Breaking Point

Time in the Cage was mostly comprised of psychological torture. The closest that he had ever gotten to the physical aspect of torture while in the Cage was when he'd bashed his head against one of the walls to get the voices to shut up. Sometimes it was quiet in the Cage – an eerie and completely unnerving silence. Other times it was earth-shatteringly loud – the voices all yelling at him at once, the noise echoing and reverberating in on itself to amplify to even louder levels.

That was before.

Then he had been freed to walk the Earth. Topside, it had been quiet and loud in their own rights, but it was nothing like the Cage. At least on Earth, he was able to find something to counteract either extreme – a soft white noise that constantly kept it from being too quiet or too loud, the ever present hum of life that soothed his senses.

When he had been trapped in the Cage once more, he'd had Sam and Michael with him. He entertained himself for a while by lashing out on Sam, but then Sam was taken away. And eventually Michael went insane. Not even the Good Son could handle the Cage's torments.

Soon enough, Lucifer was left alone (again).

With nothing to keep him from thinking about anything else, they started coming back. Whispers at first – just like how it had started at the very beginning – then the deafening silence, and then the yelling would start after a few cycles of the first two. It didn't get as bad as it had the first time he'd been in his prison.

The Darkness's release caused a distraction and created cracks in the Cage for him to focus on things outside – a way for him to keep the voices and the silence out of mind. He latched onto Sam's soul, preying on his true vessel's beliefs. Sam would let him out again… and Sam would send him back.

At least, that was what they all thought happened. But Lucifer was not back in the Cage. No, no, he was… wherever Crowley kept his lair.

Lucifer had waited patiently to for the right moment to strike in order to free himself. Lucifer was used to waiting; it was something he'd learned after being in a Cage for thousands upon thousands of years. He hadn't been expecting the 'improvements' Crowley had added to the vessel.

The Cage was all about psychological torture. Every damn molecule of Lucifer's vessel had the runes and spell-work of the Cage engraved on it. That single fact changed everything.

Lucifer had been ignorant of it before. Now, he knew.

Crowley's punishments were nothing. Lucifer had been on the bad side of the Darkness. He had endured her torture. Crowley wasn't about to break Lucifer the old-fashioned way. Lucifer wondered if Crowley knew about the Cage's side effects – to name them lightly.

"Well, brother… Long time, no see. It's only been— what? Seven years since that night at the hotel…"

Lucifer refused to acknowledge the voice of his younger brother— Not Gabriel, his mind loudly corrected. Lucifer kept his eyes firmly locked on the ground. Here was perhaps worse than in the Cage. In this vessel – Nick – the entire body was the Cage. In the actual Cage, it could only touch his mind. Now it was everywhere.

In this moment specifically, it was in his eyes and ears. Lucifer didn't dare close his eyes either. The hallucination in front of him was bad enough. He didn't need to be seeing things behind his eyelids too.

"What? Not even a hello?" The voice let out a scoff. "That's rude, you know…"

"I don't see why you bother, Gabriel," a new voice – a much more familiar voice – mused. "He's the monster that killed you, remember?"

Lucifer took in a slow, steeling breath through his nose. He wouldn't let the comment get to him. He would not let their words affect him—

"The traitor never did know when he's been defeated," Michael's voice went on.

Gabriel laughed at that. "Poor little Luci… always struggling to be something he's not."

"You still think that Father ever really loved you?"

"Stop," Lucifer spat, choking on the word. "Stop it."

"Monsters don't deserve reprieve," Michael whispered in his ear. The ghost of a touch trailed across Lucifer's cheek in a twisted semblance a caress. Lucifer bit down hard on his lip to keep from jerking away. Moving away would only give the hallucination more to work with. "I would've thought you remembered that lesson from before."

"We had so much fun together," Gabriel picked up as his oldest brother trailed off. "Then you left, and now you're stuck with us forever… Thank Dad for the guy who trapped you in this pathetic meatsuit."

"Crowley does have a penchant for getting payback," another voice added. Castiel, Lucifer registered as a tan trench coat came into view. Lucifer struggled to keep his eyes down. Don't look at them— "It won't matter if he can't break you. We'll do it for him."

"I can't wait to get started," Gabriel cheered sadistically.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Gabriel," Michael lightly reprimanded the other. "We still have to wait for the rest of us."

Deep blue eyes forced their way into Lucifer's line of view. "Until then, enjoy the silence."

And then they were gone. Lucifer let out a ragged gasp, sagging into the chains that held him down to the floor while also keeping him upright in an awkward half-kneeling half-bowing position. They were right. It didn't matter if Crowley wasn't able to break him – which the demon wasn't. If he was left long enough alone, what remained of Lucifer's sanity might just snap with them whispering in his ear.

—o-O-o—

The silence was deafening. It was like having the sense of hearing completely removed. He couldn't even hear his own breathing, let alone his heartbeat or the blood that rushed past his eardrums.

Crowley had come in earlier and left not long after. He didn't do anything worse than what the voices had already done. The demon wouldn't break Lucifer. He could try, but he would be better off just locking Lucifer in a pitch black room for a couple months… maybe less, depending on how creative the voices got.

The key to making it through the silence was to keep the eyes open, to focus them on something that gave any representation of time. It didn't matter if time was actually being tracked or kept, just that it was moving. Because that meant the silence would eventually end. It was only a matter of time.

The time during the silence was meant for Lucifer to think. About what the voices said or something else – it didn't matter to the Cage. But if one didn't think or hold onto something – anything – during the silence, he was going to go mad. And so Lucifer decided to spend his time thinking about his son.

That woman – Kelly Kline – was still out there somewhere, alive. He could feel it – his son. That spark of soul and grace inside of Kelly Kline, right next to her own soul. Lucifer wondered what would happen to his son if he wasn't able to get out of Crowley's clutches.

The angels would obviously be after his child. His son was a Nephilim, the offspring of a human and an archangel. He would be seen as an abomination and likely sentenced to be destroyed if ever found by an angel. The demons would be on the hunt for him too, but Dagon was with Kelly Kline.

While Dagon would be able to keep the woman safe for a while, the Prince of Hell had her own plans, which Lucifer was not entirely filled in on. Dagon could possibly take Lucifer's child for her own. Dagon had always been a bit of a loose cannon.

A sharp, scoffing laugh pierced through the silence. "You've got to be kidding me— That's rich!"

Lucifer tensed at the voice. He couldn't be here. There was no way Crowley would let them in on this—

"The great and mighty Lucifer brought low by a demon… And what's this about a son?" Sam asked, sitting down in the only chair in the room. Lucifer quickly looked away from the image. "You know, most demons call you 'father'. Aren't they your offspring, too?"

Lucifer grit his teeth together in an attempt to keep his mouth shut. Besides, the real Sam Winchester would have known the answer. Lucifer didn't see the demons as his children. They were lower than humans.

"Bet Crowley would love to hear that, eh, Sammy? The King of Hell's pet is being bad again. He'll have to deal some punishment," came Dean's voice.

Lucifer's brow scrunched at the older Winchester's voice. Why was he there? Lucifer couldn't care less about him.

"Oh, you know why Dean's here," Sam said nonchalantly, as if he were only talking about the weather. "He's better than Michael, better than you… and to think that we're only human."

Dean let out a scoff. "I don't know what Chuck saw in you. Hey, at least John knew when to let go of a lost cause— and you call us flawed abortions."

"All you do is lie, Lucifer—"

"No, I don't," he protested. Blue eyes snapped up to meet hazel before realizing what he'd just done and falling back to the ground.

"But that was one right there," Sam pointed out. "And you lied about being able to take on Amara by yourself. You lie about your intentions. You're lying to yourself even now… You can't get rid of us."

"You're not real," Lucifer said weakly.

"Keep telling yourself that, pal," Dean exclaimed, picking a spot on the opposite side of the room from his brother to lean against the wall. "We're as real as your vessel."

"Deano's got a point, big bro."

Lucifer's hands clenched into tight fists behind him as Gabriel showed up, which meant that Michael and Castiel would soon follow. And sure enough, all five of his tormentors were circled about him, each hurtling sticks and stones in their own way.

"Traitor."

"Monster."

"Freak."

"Serpent."

"Bastard."

Lucifer bowed his head against the onslaught. It was harder to shut them out. It used to be so easy to just turn their words into meaningless jargon. Sometimes even the slightest distraction had been able to make them go away.

Still, deep down he knew that this wasn't truly all of them. They hadn't reached the loudest they could be. There had to be another (possibly more) that hadn't joined the party yet – another voice to add on to the godforsaken choir of hellish voices. He really, really didn't want to find out who it might be.

—o-O-o—

"Oh, Crowley got you good that time," Gabriel crowed, cackling in mirth along with Sam, Dean and Castiel at Lucifer's… new position.

Michael wasn't laughing. Lucifer didn't have to look to know that there would be a disgusted expression on Michael's face. Michael hadn't spoken a word of what Lucifer had been forced to do, which – Lucifer had found – was worse than if Michael had commented on it.

"I wonder what the demon's got planned next. It's always inspiring to watch what he does with you," the youngest archangel continued.

"Maybe Crowley will take the hint that he was finally doing something right," Sam added.

"He could do better," Dean scoffed, a smile fit of a demon crossing his features. "Hell, I could do better. I've got plenty of ideas to try out."

"Just imagine it… Instead of the hellfire he was using, holy fire edging closer and closer to those disgraces you call wings. The burning of the pinions, the sizzling of your skin, the scarring on bone and grace," Castiel depicted.

Lucifer let out a soft – albeit shaky – release of air at the images, unconsciously pulling the described appendages closer to his back. A heat creeped along the edges of his wings, and he shifted uncomfortably at the phantom sensation, the chains attached to his limbs rattling with the movement. The burns Crowley had dealt had already healed over. The Cage had its way of bringing them back, even if they weren't really there anymore.

Sam leaned forward in the chair, making the furniture creak at the shifting of weight. "Your 'precious' wings would become useless, ugly, unwanted."

"Just like their owner," the other human brother tagged on.

"But you're not even that anymore," Gabriel said, directing the train of thoughts to some other tormentous track. "You're Crowley's pet… his slave."

"N-n-never," Lucifer got out. Damn stutter.

That humiliating impediment was something he hadn't quite gotten over yet. Crowley had been experimenting with holy oil. The demon had hooked Lucifer up to an intravenous drip of the stuff – heated to almost boiling. Lucifer had been relatively fine with the burning running through his veins up until the point the holy oil reached his lungs. He had struggled to breathe, and sometime between then and when he had started shaking, he had developed a stutter.

"Someone's in denial," Dean taunted.

"It's too late for you, Lucifer," Sam told him in a pitying tone. "No one's coming to rescue you this time."

Suddenly they were all in front of him, his head being jerked up, forcing him to look at them. "You are ours," they all said at once.

-o-O-o-

It was the silence again. For some reason, Lucifer felt that it had been going on longer than usual. Maybe it was because Crowley hadn't interrupted it like he usually did. That's how it happened more often than not. The voices would leave Lucifer to the silence; Crowley would barge in and break the silence temporarily; the voices would pick up off of the demon's ministrations.

But the demon hadn't come in for while now, and the archangel was beginning to think that Crowley had finally figured out just how much the Cage affected Lucifer. The archangel knew for a fact that Crowley had most of the effects pinned down – especially the one that meant Lucifer was effectively trapped within his vessel now. It was the silence and voices that were known only by the Cage's captives.

Lucifer was starting to run out of good things to think about. He could always concentrate on feeling for his son, but that got dangerously close to zoning out. At least the demon hadn't gotten to his child yet. There was also the odd thought about what he'd do to Crowley when he got free… if he ever got free.

Sam Winchester – the real Sam, not the cheap hallucination the Cage made – came to the forefront of Lucifer's mind. The archangel wondered what the human was doing now. He wondered if Sam might even consider helping him. Lucifer doubted it. He wasn't needed anymore. Sam wouldn't bother toying with the notion of freeing Lucifer from Crowley's control or at all.

Lucifer really didn't have anyone else left to rely on. The Devil didn't have friends… big shocker. He didn't have much of a family left either… especially any that would care.

He wasn't sure how long he could keep doing this. With Crowley, Lucifer knew that he would be used for something whether he had been broken yet or not. The ambitious demon was still 'just getting started'. And while Lucifer didn't look forward to what Crowley had planned, Lucifer knew that eventually he would have found a loophole and escaped.

The silence and voices were another matter entirely. They were what made thoughts of escape impossible. They were what made it all so daunting. So what if he did happen to get away from Crowley? He'd still be trapped within this damned vessel.

Maybe… maybe it wouldn't be so bad if… Could he just let it all go though? Just give up? Give in?

"Ah, ah, ah," a female voice tsked. "Oh, my little playing, it's not that simple…"

Lucifer's blood ran cold as he recognized the voice of his last tormentor. No— No! Oh, Father, please, no—

—o-O-o—

Crowley winced as an ear-piercing screech filled the air – the noise shattering practically all of the windows and any form of glass he had in the vicinity. The King of Hell then rolled his eyes, getting up to walk over to the door of the room in which Lucifer was chained up. What was wrong with the damn archangel now? First muttering to himself, flinching at nothing, staring off into space… and now Lucifer was writhing in utter agony.

The blond's head was thrown back, eyes rolling up into his skull as his body seized, but Crowley could still see the way red flickered in those eyes, clashing with the vessel's natural blue. Lucifer was straining against the chains holding him in place. Blood trickled in rivulets across the archangel's skin where the cuffs and collar bit and tore at his flesh.

The screeching increased in volume as the light within the room did. Lucifer's wings started coming into being behind him, though Crowley could still only see the shadows of said wings. But that wasn't what caught Crowley's eye.

What drew the King of Hell's attention was the black splotch of rot slowly growing in the middle of the archangel's chest.

Crowley muttered a brief curse under his breath, stepping into the room.

Damn sentient Cage going beyond what it was supposed to. Oh, Crowley knew about those nasty little side effects the Cage could do – the whispers that turned into damning cries and the silence that drove a being mad without thought. He knew that the effects would only increase with the absolute proximity the Cage now had with its prisoner.

The demon had thought 'why the hell not' when he'd learned about the effects that would be in the list of additions. It had been a bonus that went along with being able to keep Lucifer trapped in his vessel. A bit of added torture without Crowley even having to lift a finger. Bloody archangel deserved the side dish to the main course Crowley had planned out for him.

But Crowley did not need this. He didn't need a half dead archangel. With a snap of his fingers, Crowley made it all stop – what he assumed was the voices aspect having its turn, the forced extraction of Lucifer's wings onto a more physical plane; Crowley even vanished the chains and cuffs and collar that were usually locked tightly on the archangel's vessel.

The demon watched idly as Lucifer's body sagged like a rag doll, dropping limp onto the floor. Crowley took some satisfaction in the way Lucifer fell flat on his face. Too bad the force from the fall wasn't enough to break the archangel's nose. It would have healed over by the end of the day anyways.

When Crowley was one hundred and ten percent sure that Lucifer wasn't going to wake up on him, the demon moved a bit closer to the unconscious archangel. With the tip of his shoe, Crowley flipped Lucifer onto his side. It was… unnerving to see the Devil look so at peace despite his current state of well-being (which was not very good). Not that Crowley cared all that much.

Lucifer's chest was coated in the black now-ash-like stuff he'd see before. It had smeared on the floor, but it didn't seem like any more of whatever it was would be making an appearance. However, a different kind of substance looked to be pooling on the ground now. Blood seeped out from under the original layer of black, and there was a hint of grace peeking through the hole Lucifer's vessel.

Crowley felt it a split second before the being even entered the building. It was hard to forget that presence of pure, omnipotent power.

"I'd like my son back," Chuck said calmly.

Bollocks… Crowley slowly turned and stared at Him for a long moment. "Go ahead," he replied, waving a hand in the direction of his fallen captive. "He's of no use to me anymore, and besides, I've had my fun. Not like I could stop you either way."

Chuck didn't move, though He did blink. "Is there something you'd like, Crowley? I know you hold a grudge against Lucifer, and I'm taking him away from you. I don't want you coming after any of my children again... So what do you want?"

Crowley narrowed his eyes Him. What was God playing at? Crowley was being offered a deal – obviously – but he hadn't figured out the catch yet (aside from not being able to actively going after those featherbrained celestials anymore, and it also more than likely included protection for the Devil's little spawn).

"No catch, Crowley," He said abruptly. "What you ask for just has to be within reason. No wanting the world destroyed, you know— that sort of thing."

The demon huffed and raised an eyebrow at that. So God did have a sense of humor. An expression played across Chuck's face. 'I have a great sense of humor', it said.

"You could ask for an official and secure place on the throne of Hell until you die, a power boost, the like… or you could even ask for something a bit more human," Chuck suggested.

Crowley let out a scoff at the insinuation. "How about a rain check?" he said after a moment. "I'll let go of my little grudge against Lucifer and leave your angels alone if I get to hold on to this offer of yours. No timestamp on the cash in."

"Sure, take your time."

Chuck moved forward then, patting Crowley on the shoulder as He passed by the demon. He crouched down by Lucifer's side – His eyes running over His son's form. Chuck ran a hand along the side of Lucifer's face, a simple action that held all the love and care of parent, and – without even knowing where it came from – Crowley felt a hot flash of jealous fury run through him.

If Crowley were still in control of things, then Lucifer still had (at the very least) another nine ways to Hell of fun times before Crowley was even close to being through with getting started. Lucifer would have been rudely woken up to electricity running through his veins because of the electric chair Crowley had recently gotten installed. That or the holy oil IV drip. It had been immensely gratifying to watch the archangel – who thrived in subzero temperatures – squirm and thrash and strain against his chains while he burned from the inside.

The primordial being must have heard the demon's thoughts, though He must have also ignored him because He then put His hands underneath His son's body and lifted Lucifer up to carry him bridal style in His arms with an unnatural ease. The being began to walk out the door, leaving Crowley to just stare at the pair. But before He left, Chuck stopped and turned to face the demon once more.

"I'll be listening."

And then they were gone.

—o-O-o—

"How is he?" she asked, standing in the doorway of the room where her brother had constantly worried over his son for the past week – though she couldn't really say that it had been a week on Earth.

Here in this pocket dimension he had created for them, one day inside equaled a mere second out there. He hadn't told her why he'd recently altered time within the pocket dimension to be like so, but then he didn't have to explain. She already knew why – it was so that he could spend more time with his son than he would have been able to on Earth.

He didn't look at her, his eyes staying on the form in the bed. "I was able to reverse most of the physical damage and get rid of the runes and spell-work of the Cage Crowley engraved into the vessel, but…" He let out a sigh, shoulders dropping a hair. "I just won't know how bad it is until he wakes up."

"By the way you practically had a heart attack, I'd say it's bad," she commented, moving to stand just behind him, gazing at her nephew. "And I can see why you were panicking."

He shot a glance up at her this time. "Thank you for agreeing to let me bring him here."

"I couldn't let you keep being a horrible parent," she told him, a flicker of a teasing smile crossing her face as she placed a supportive hand on his shoulder.

-o-O-o-

He woke up slowly. Feelings, sensations came to him first. He was somewhere warm – not too hot, not too cold, somewhere at a balanced in between. He was surrounded by safe and comfort. Love.

Lucifer barely remembered the last time he'd been enveloped in these feelings. That had been before… everything. Back when it had just been him, Michael and God with the Darkness hovering just around the corner but never disturbing them. Back then it had been a bit lonely even with his Father and Michael, but it had been perfect. He missed it.

Other sensations washed over him. The hum of creation was in the air. He was lying on something soft, and there was light weight that was laid over him, covering his chest all the way down to his feet. It was almost like he was resting against Michael with his big brother's wings wrapped around him. He could almost imagine that this was exactly what it was.

But as he opened his eyes, Lucifer knew it wasn't. Not a snow white feather was in sight nor was there any other sign of his brother. The sheets of the bed were white, though, and he thought they might be made of silk or even very finely threaded cotton. The room seemed to glow with light like the soft rays that filtered in through the window. It was all very pristine yet… homey.

Lucifer stared up at the plain white ceiling, simply relishing the feelings that surrounded him, until he felt the urge to look around a bit more. Sitting up, he turned his head to find a door. He found a few – two of which made up the closet doors, another that was probably a door to the bathroom, and the last lead out into a hallway.

It was as he tried to stand, getting up out of the bed, that he felt the soreness pressing into his chest. He let out a soft grunt with a grimace at the dull but throbbing pain, hands clenching the side of the bed. Looking down, he remembered the hand that clawed its way into his chest – grabbing and ripping at his grace, trying to tear it out. A shaky breath escaped his lips at the memory.

Lucifer tried to stand again, this time making it somewhat upright. He was beginning to question where he was now that he had started to get his bearings. He was definitely not in Crowley's lair anymore, and he was doubly sure this wasn't the Bunker. To say the very least, he didn't recognize the place.

Though, as he stepped out into the hallway, the home – because that was undoubtedly what it was – did remind him of the house one of his short term vessels (before said vessel promptly burned out the next day) had owned. Finally coming to the living room, Lucifer took note that it was a rather spacious and open house with quite a few windows. He liked that. It didn't make him feel confined.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Her. How could he not have felt the Darkness here? His mind struggled to grasp how he still felt safe with Amara not even ten feet away from him. Apprehension curled heavily in his stomach.

Then She turned Her head and caught his eye. There was a small smile that adorned Her lips. He wasn't sure what set off his fear more – that She was there or that She was smiling at him. Either way, he took a step back when Amara stood, and he took another step back when She tried to move closer to him.

Seeing the slight confusion on Her face didn't stop him from continuing to keep as much distance between them as possible. Lucifer kept moving away from Her until his back suddenly hit a wall – no, not a wall…

Two familiar hands gently lighted themselves upon Lucifer's shoulders, and he stilled instantly, freezing in place, not even daring to breathe. He started when those hands tried to turn him around. Blue eyes slammed closed as their owner desperately wished to just disappear or, at the very least, to have this illusion break.

This was cruel, even for the Cage.

"Lucifer."

He refused to open his eyes. He refused to look at the some image that the Cage had woven into this fabricated dream. He wouldn't fall into the trap that was his own mind.

"Son, look at me…"

Lucifer's hands clenched into fists at his sides. Damn the Cage – damn it and all of its foul trickery. It wasn't fair! He could take the demeaning insults and crushing comments. It shouldn't be allowed to play on his hopes, his dreams.

"The Cage can't touch you anymore, Lucifer," He said, His grip tightening and loosening in a slight reassurance.

It had the opposite effect. Lucifer threw His hands off of him, whirling around to face Him in a rage. "Liar!" he spat, red fire flickering in his eyes. "I d-don't c-care what some ch-cheap hallucination has t-to say about a d-disillusioned fantasy!"

Lucifer's ire only burned hotter at Chuck's shocked horror of the stutter. Screw Him! If He really cared, He wouldn't give a flying shit about the thrice-damned speech impediment. If He really cared, Lucifer wouldn't have the thing in the first place! Lucifer heatedly ignored the concern that passed over Chuck's face.

A chilling wave of darkness washed over him, and Lucifer spun once more to see Amara standing directly in front of him. His back hit Chuck again as Lucifer tried to move away from the Darkness, but he was trapped between the two of Them.

Lucifer choked as Her hand came up to wrap around his neck. Lucifer's own hands reached Hers, and a scream was torn from him as he tried to rip Her off of him. Those other hands were back on his shoulders now too, holding him still.

"No— no, Lucifer— let Her help. She's just trying to heal you—"

But panic had already set in. All he knew was the freezing heat that was closed around his throat and the way the Darkness brushed against his grace and how it burned— And then it stopped.

He took in shallow breaths as a soft numbness flooded through him. Falling back limply in Chuck's arms, Lucifer's body shuddered and twitched sporadically at the foreign feeling. It was an odd bliss that came from nothing, but it soon faded when Amara removed Her hand from him.

Slowly regaining his senses, he passively listened as hushed whispers were spoken above him. Something about 'fragile' and 'being gentle'. The words went over his head. There was this strange buzz in his head keeping him from holding onto a thought for too long.

That didn't keep him from forming coherent thoughts, and Lucifer had come to an unsettling conclusion. "Why?" he mumbled, the question coming out slurred. "Why did you leave again?"

"You were more than capable of taking care of yourself without me," came the quiet answer.

"And after months of that," Lucifer spat, rage slowly building back up. "You shouldn't have bothered coming back— You should have let me die!" he shouted at Him, breaking free of His grip and moving away from Them.

"I love you too much for that, Lucifer—"

"No you don't— You're just saying things! No one cares about me, and you made that perfectly clear when you skipped town with good ol' Sis." His breaths were coming heavier with each inhale and exhale. A traitorous stinging burned his eyes. "No one cares about me," he repeated, choking on the words.

Lucifer broke down with a sob, crashing to the floor on his knees. Chuck quickly hurried to His son's side, putting a hand on Lucifer's shoulder – to which Lucifer violently flinched at. Sharing look with Amara, Chuck nodded to His Sister, and the Darkness turned to leave Father and son in peace, giving them space for this private moment. Chuck gently pulled Lucifer into a hug, holding on when His son thrashed about in a struggle to get away.

Letting out a frustrated cry at failing in his attempt, Lucifer collapsed into the one-sided embrace. His body shook with the ragged sobs that escaped his throat. Hot, wet tears streamed down his face and were soaked up into Chuck's shirt as Lucifer buried his face into Chuck's shoulder. His grief cried of pain and loss and sorrow.

Chuck didn't say a word as His son just let it all out. The hurt had been there for eons, and the emotional stress even longer. Lucifer had kept it all bottled up, locked away behind tight walls in his mind and heart. There's only so many cracks that one can take before the dam breaks.

Eventually, Lucifer's sobs quieted down into sniffles and hiccups, his breathing still quick and shallow but not as ragged. Though his body continued to shake, it was now more because of frayed nerves. His red-rimmed eyes had long since run out of tears.

Chuck had taken to rubbing small circles into Lucifer's back with one of His hands, being mindful about not touching the sensitive areas where his wings met his back. With the other, He petted Lucifer's blond hair, sending soothing waves to His son. When Lucifer gripped His shirt as a means of simply holding onto something, Chuck began murmuring soft words in Enochian.

"It's okay now… You're safe here… I do, I do care… I'm not leaving… It'll all be alright… No one can hurt you here… I love you, my son…"

A/N: Okay, so maybe I got a little rushed with the ending. I know it'll never happen in the show, but hey, a girl can dream. And besides, this was more about a literal breaking point – both when Lucifer gave up on life and when he started crying in front of Chuck.

If you got confused at any point, well… I'll try to answer as best I can and put the response at the bottom down here so other people can see. I know there's bound to be some kind of plot hole (there's never not one) with the deviations I've created (and I know Crowley can get way more creative than what I had him do – the Cage could too, I'm sure – but I wanted to keep this on the T-rated side of things), so yeah...

I really do hope you people enjoyed this fic. Thank you for reading.

Last Edited: [February 17, 2018]

Arya: And I love your review! Reviews make my day.

Kajune: Thank you for the compliment. It's nice to know that I can pull at people's heartstrings with simple words. :3

Carvcr Edlund: And thank you for reading this piece three times (possibly more now?). That the ending won't really happen is just the harsh and bittersweet truth. We all know that Chuck's not coming back– at least not for Lucifer, even if he was His favorite.

bluedancingkittykat: I'm not entirely sure where I stand for if physical pain is good for you, but I guess if you say you're okay... Still, sorry if I broke your heart.

Jean: Sorry I didn't respond to this any sooner, but thank you for the compliments. And same! (to both the Chuck comment and the Cage one) – Well, I don't like that the Cage would be built like that to mess with everyone that goes into it (and therefore making it sentient with a dash of evil), but it does make sense since technically the Cage was a punishment... But whatever, I digress.

Avenage99: You've kinda got a double post there, buddy, but your review(s) is still appreciated. It's feedback, and it's how I can tell if I'm doing a good job or not – the job being getting an emotional response out of you people. (And you're welcome)

Saphirabrightscale: Wow, this is like, uber late as a response, but here it is.

Yes, I have had that experience before. Maybe not the exact thing, but something similar. And in different fandoms too. Anyways, in the show, Lucifer definitely isn't the most likeable character ever, especially considering his role as an on-and-off main antagonist. I'm currently hating his character 'progression' in these later seasons (mainly the middle of season 12 and into 13)... Not that I can do anything about it, whatever. Point is, I'm not happy with him in the show right now.

But I showed your review to my best friend (I hope you don't mind too much; I was trying to prove a point), and she was *ahem* kind enough to remind me that your reaction to this story and how it moved you was a big part of the reason why I started posting fics. Inspiring a different view on characters (who maybe just don't get enough love in canon), moving someone else with just words on a screen is simply beautiful. All I did is write a story, but you're the one who took the time to read it. And it's something that brings a smile to my face because /you/ let those words move you.

iwelcometheshadows: If it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one with that opinion ;-)

Omg kill me: … Sorry, not making a sequel for this one, but you're welcome to go read some of my other fics, which offer far more comfort than this tragedy.