It was cold.

Dark.

Silent.

A vague memory came to her.

A strong wind, a gaping hole, and Sam Winchester pulling Michael into the cage.

The Cage.

She had been pulled in.

Sitting tight against… I don't even know what I'm leaning on… knees against her chest, Maggie listened. She could feel the vast nothingness around her, watching…

She knew she was destined for Hell, but being trapped in The Cage for eternity hadn't even been on the distant list of possibility.

Blind, cold, and numb, she waited, alone in the blackness.

Time passed. Unwilling to venture from her spot, Maggie slowly began to lose sense of her surroundings. Her ears picked up strange sounds - things scuttled close, croaked at her, growled right by her ear, faintly screamed in the distance.

Unable to see, she startled at every brush of hair, rough nails, and breath on her skin.

The air tasted of ice and metal.

When the creatures grew bored of her unresponsiveness, Maggie dared to creep out of her hiding place - for that could be the only way that nothing else had happened to her in the time she had been there.

After a few years of stumbling through the emptiness, Maggie was blinded by a sudden light. She had crossed some sort of threshold. Everything assaulted her at once. Heat, laughter and screams, pleading, and the smell of smoke and burning flesh. Her pupils constricted painfully, and, eyes watering, Maggie beheld the sight of two Angels torturing two souls. Both were tall beings; vastly different from each other in the sense only two siblings could be; one with beauty and health that rivaled the stars, the other scarred and wilted, and both aggressive in their methods against the tortured souls wrapped in chains.

Maggie wiped her cheeks, dimly aware that tears evaporated from her fingertips into the atmosphere around her. Her skin… Pink and raw, covered in seeping wounds and bubbling flesh. A metal taste filled her mouth, and dripped down her chin. Tongue scalded, she could only sob once through her melting throat.

The screams stopped abruptly. The weight of the Angel's stare was a cooling balm, but it was too late. She was no longer salvageable. A shadowed form slunk from the boundaries of fire around them. It latched itself to her form, thin claws piercing her skin. It began to drag her down through the cracked floor beneath.

The cold Angel, face scarred and long hair wild, wings burned and broken, reached out to her as if he couldn't help it. Hand half curled, body beginning to turn fully towards her, he crooned out a note enquiringly, head tilted and eyes narrowed in confusion. Maggie wanted to grasp his hand, but he was too far, and his brother (a vague knowledge swarmed her mind that she knew who these beings were and what they were doing) turned and grabbed him harshly, forcing him to turn back to the two souls suspended by hooks and burning.

The Angel bristled with rage, wings flaring. He snarled out a different song, one that grated on Maggie's ears and made them bleed. The silent shadow wrapped it's bony arms around her and pulled her down even faster.

Before she was submerged, Maggie saw a black hole open above them all. A terrifying, colossal, thing emerged from it and grabbed one of the souls in it's enormous hands, gently cupping it until it was a speck, before surging back up above ground.

With a last broken cry of, "Lucifer!" from her lips, Maggie watched the scarred Angel roar in fury at his prize being taken, before turning his head swiftly in her direction. He wasn't fast enough to catch her and she fell into the void.

The shadow left her in the dark once again, strangely in tact. It was like it only wanted to make her suffer by taking her away from everything bright. She had left the void to find something to take away the numbness, and now she was back in it.

Cold.

Alone.

Aching for something other than her nightmares for company.

Maggie opened her eyes to a gray sky. Clouds, thick and heavy, pressed down on her. The air was dry, hot, and charged. She could feel it on her skin. A rumbling rolled over the land, the earth shuddering with its weight.

Slowly, so very slowly, Maggie realized that she was outside. Grass brushed against her cheeks and temples when she turned her head. Pushing herself up, she sat and tried to make sense of where she was.

There was an old farmhouse a few miles to her right, a path leading to it directly in front of her. She was on the side of a dirt road. The land expanded wide, nothing but dirt, the occasional tree, and a long range of mountains in the far distance.

A flash made her flinch, the brightness so sharp, she thought she would go blind. The same rumbling followed soon after, but it wasn't just thunder. Two small specks of black over the mountains circled each other, before rushing the other to clash in mid air.

Squinting, Maggie stood up, automatically wiping off the dust and dirt from her jeans. Within a few minutes, the dark forms traveled closer. One moment they were small, and the next they were giants, morphing larger and larger until they hit the land running. The one in front, with wings almost bare, took a sharp turn, the earth rising under his feet. He threw his weight into swinging his arm towards the other and a bolt of lightning emerged to strike the second in the chest. Maggie watched in awe when the being was launched backwards, only to slide along his back until the momentum helped him tumble his way back to his feet.

It hit her then, that this was Lucifer and Michael fighting in another part of The Cage.

And she was very much in the way.

Michael, having been in perfect condition before he was dragged into The Cage, was dominating his younger brother easily. He opened his hand, curling his fingers until he conjured a spear of energy. He threw it with ease, and Lucifer spread his wings, beating them down to try and push himself out of the line of fire, but they were useless. It pierced his shoulder and he was driven back by the force of the contact.

Maggie's eyes widened, for his falling body was heading straight for her.

"Shit."

Having no means of escape, she curled in on herself and waited for the inevitable. The noise of his impact was the same sound as she'd first heard; a heavy, thunderous landing that shook the ground beneath her feet. Dust plumed up and around her, coating her from head to toe. Coughing, Maggie moved her arms away from her head and dared to see what had happened. Waving a hand as if it would help clear the area around her, Maggie got a fright when she realized she was at the spot where his neck met his shoulder, and above him, the yawning expanse of the darker Angel that was Michael was gripping the spear and twisting it with harsh movements. Lucifer moaned in pain, arching and clawing at the weapon, but his brother was only focused on driving it in further.

Maggie had seen this scenario before - granted it was when a human sibling pinned another one down, but bullying was bullying.

She bent and grabbed a rock, and hurled it as high as she could towards Michael's leg. "Hey, asshole! Stop being such a fucking bastard to your brother!"

It took four tries for them to hear her. Michael stopped, and blinked down at her, confused. Lucifer couldn't see her since she was so close to him, but he could hear her. He tilted his head in her direction, and tried to see her from the corner of his giant eye. Distracted, Michael didn't see Lucifer's new determination. He took hold of the spear with his opposite hand, and curled his leg enough to kick out at his brother. Michael stumbled back. Lucifer quickly removed the weapon, before standing and throwing it at his brother. Michael's eyes widened, and with a rapid beat of his wings, he vanished before the spear could connect. It thunked into the earth, sparking angrily, before it dissipated into the air around them when it's target wasn't met.

Lucifer, left hand curled over his right shoulder in a vague attempt to stop the… what she could only assume was a type of blood, dark as it was, swirling down his arm and chest like a black liquid sky full of stars.

After a few moments, he turned to her, looking down. She didn't know how to read this form of him. She was used to seeing Nick's body - his vessel. He tilted his head and blinked, before moving his enormous body down into a crouch. With his good hand, he reached out and opened his fingers, palm up and flat to the ground. He crooned at her again, looking at his hand and back to her.

Maggie got the gist and clambered up, trying to avoid the 'blood' where possible. He rose up slowly, Maggie praying to him to be careful with her or he'd regret it. Eyes shining in faint amusement, he began to walk towards the farmhouse. His long strides ate up the ground, and within a few minutes they were there. He lowered her to the porch, and she slide off his palm onto the new wood with a soft thump.

Gazing up at him, she raised her eyebrows in disbelief when he pointed a finger at her and sang a different, harder sound.

"Did you seriously just tell me to 'stay'?"

He nodded once, sharply. The strange blood still dripping off the end of his long fingers, he turned away and strode in the direction they had come from.

She didn't see him for a while, so she spent the time organizing and living in the house as if everything was normal. The food was fresh and fully stocked, and it was a very homey place, which was just all sorts of bizarre.

Sitting curled up on the windowsill, Maggie watched the sky darken. Time was strange in this place. It was forever and a second. Sometimes the sun rose. Sometimes it didn't rise for days. Once, it stayed high in the sky for six 'days', only to set on the seventh.

The one light she turned on a few minutes ago, began to flicker, before the filament burst and the bulb died.

The window frosted up in slow increments, until she could rub out a pattern with damp fingers. His footsteps were measured and soft; the only real give away of his position was the small creak of floorboard when he was a foot away from her side. She didn't turn when he brought his hand towards the window and added his own little design to hers. It was a little pitchfork.

It took her a second to realize it was a very human looking hand. Very familiar. Pale skin covered in sores and torn, raw skin. Maggie reached for it, and cradled it in her own. He let her. She rubbed her thumb along his palm.

They had never really talked about that night in the motel. Their intimacy could never be replicated like before due the building Apocalypse around them. There never seemed to be the time, or the opportunity to discuss it or relive it in any way, so they seemed to come to a decision to remain silent on the subject.

There had been moments where they caught each others eye, but then the moments passed. When he possessed Sam, Maggie was even more reluctant to approach the subject of their… whatever it was they had. He just looked... different. He moved differently, more fluidly, and ceased being so wound up about things if something didn't work out like he planned.

She had known the Winchesters briefly, so it wasn't that. It was more that she had gotten used to him in his other vessel. He was different in Sam's body, more focused, more relaxed. He no longer had to fight to stay inside like he had with Nick's, and it didn't strike her until he dared to voice his opinion to his brother about defying their father's plans for them, before their fight that would end the world. Without that distraction of trying to maintain a vessel, and when it came down to the ultimate battle on a quiet day in a field, she had seen his reluctance to play along. She had come with him for the support, and he had been so quiet; silently taking in his surroundings, watching the trees move and a crow take flight above them before Michael showed up.

He didn't want to do it anymore. Everything he'd been through, from his rebellion, to his time in The Cage, to fighting his brother, had been planned before he was even made.

He was letting it go, but his brother defied his logic, fixated as he was on doing what his father asked of him. Maggie was glad when Dean arrived. He focused their attention away from each other, which left a potential turn away from the Plan. Maybe it would be different.

Pushing away the thoughts of the disaster of them being sucked into The Cage, Maggie watched his skin beneath her fingers, change. It healed over, becoming smoother and more pink. He removed his hand from hers, letting it rest on her leg nearest to him. Firmly sliding his fingers to the inside of her thighs, he tugged her in one motion to face him, grasping the back of her thighs in his large hands to pull her closer to the edge of the windowsill. Maggie inhaled quickly at the sudden motion, legs instinctively tightening around his waist lest she fall.

He breathed deeply, curling his hands into fists to press his knuckles into the wood of the windowsill on either side of her. He was so close now, and he smelled like winter. To keep her balance, Maggie rested her hands just above her thighs on his waist, and was surprised to find his paunch gone. Looking up, she found him to look like he had only a day after taking Nick as his vessel. He has nothing to fight against here, she thought, so he's controlling how he looks.

He was watching her, eyes flicking to take her in, but ultimately returning his gaze to her own. Maggie's breath was shaky, especially when he tilted his head closer, forehead touching hers. He inhaled slow and deep, following his nose down her neck and back up to brush his lips over hers.

Unable to help it, her hands plucked at his t-shirt, and her legs squeezed to pull him closer. Releasing a shaky exhale, she chased his mouth until their lips brushed again. He avoided her for several moments, Maggie watching with heavy-lidded eyes a small smile turning up one corner of his mouth. Trying not to smile herself at this strange play, she let go of his waist and ran her hands slowly up to the back of his neck and into his hair. A tightening of her grip on the soft strands, and he was kissing her. The press of his mouth was something she didn't realize she'd missed until she had it again, and she was mildly surprised when he licked her lower lip after a few seconds, asking for more. An aborted moan caught in her throat, which he took to be permission to up the intensity, nipping her lower lip until it was plump and red. His hands came up from the windowsill and cupped either side of her face, pulling back so he could look at what he'd done, before leaning in again with heavy-lidded eyes. Maggie tugged at his hair in breathless delight when she opened at his previous nipping request, and his bisected tongue found her own.

Groaning, Maggie trapped it and sucked. His broken moan vibrated down her spine and she couldn't help but arch into him. A little, sudden, frustration hit her then. She had been trying so hard not to think about a repeat performance from him after so long, and now they were alone, and willing, and so very eager to make up for lost time.

She let go of his hair and ran her hands quickly down his chest to pull at the hem of his t-shirt and overshirt. Continuing to kiss her, he dropped his hands and removed his overshirt with quick movements. She helped by yanking up his t-shirt before he even finished, breaking away from the kiss to get it over his head. His hair was fluffed up from it, making him look messy, and Maggie crossed her arms and grasped the hem of her own t-shirt to stem some of her pained need. His large hands ran up the skin of her stomach and bra-covered chest, causing her to shiver and twist when he ran over both sensitive and erogenous zones. She huffed out indignant laughter when he caught on quickly and ran his fingers over the sensitive area of the bottom of her ribs, tickling her. He chuckled lowly, diving in to kiss her neck while his touch became firmer, sliding around to her back to unsnap her bra.

She didn't remember him knowing how to do that the last time.

In retaliation, Maggie ran her nails down his back, paying special attention to his shoulderblades and lower back. He hissed, thrusting against her, but it didn't give them the friction they needed. He stepped back. Maggie tossed away her bra, and saw him focusing his attention on her breasts. He smoothed his hands to cup her ribcage before tilting his head and brushing thumbs over the hardened nipples. She had never felt much when guys did that to her, so she waited to see what he liked. Impatience was winning, but she could stop here and there to try and let them breathe and explore each other.

She thought he might not be a breast man when all he did was gently feel the weight of them, before he removed his hands and -

Holy -

Her stomach flipped when he came in close, wrapped an arm around her and used his strength to lift her with a solid, sharp movement, until her legs were around his ribs and his mouth was at the level of her breasts. Maggie thumped her head back against the window, the pain dull when she was distracted by his mouth wrapped around her left breast. This, she liked. Warm, moist, suction - Fuck, that's kind of wrong, isn't it, and this is Lucifer, but fuck it feels good -

She grunted at the slight roughness of his tongue around her nipple, and made more unintelligible sounds when he laved his way to do the same to the other.

Wanting more, and feeling slightly oversensitized, Maggie pulled his head up by the hair to catch his attention. He growled, glancing up at her with dark, shining eyes. He abruptly dropped her down, catching her before she hit the windowsill and setting her down on it before roughly tugging at her jeans. Maggie lifted her hips to help, but her fumbling was useless to his direct, purposeful movements. Before she could encourage him to do the same, he dropped to his knees, pulled her hips out, and licked her from her entrance to her clit. Maggie jolted with a gasp, banging her head on the glass again, but oblivious to the dull ache in her skull when he trapped her clit on the third lick between his bisected tongue and so slowly, so fucking slowly, pressing it between as he pulled away.

"Where - ," she gasped, " - the Hell - did you learn - oh fuck!" He sucked hard for no more than two seconds and then circled her clit in a random pattern she couldn't discern, in between long licks and the occasional press of his tongue directly into her. He continued to find his own method, and Maggie was too incoherent to form sentences to direct him more because he'd suddenly find really, really good spots that would steal the words.

She could barely breathe, and just as she felt herself on the edge, he stopped, got up, and opened his jeans, leaving them loose on his hips. Again, he wrapped his arm around her waist, and lifted her so her back thumped against the wall beside the window. Maggie growled at being left on the precipice, and being manhandled - his strength was hot but goddammit don't toss me around like a doll - but he didn't give her a chance to shout at him because he leaned his upper body back slightly, grasped his cock, and guided it to her. A heavy, solid thrust, and he was in to the hilt. Maggie tensed at the suddenness - he'd waited the last time and he was a big guy - but the sudden spike of pleasure when he grazed her g-spot on the way amped her up enough to enjoy the slight roughness. Head buried against her shoulder, he slid his hands up her thighs to grip her ass, waited a moment until she relaxed her back, and began a hard, but tempered, grinding pace.

Maggie could barely draw in enough air. Arms wrapped around his shoulders and legs trembling around his waist, she bit her lip at the nice angle that caught her clit on every other thrust. Her voice was hoarse, and he bit her neck lightly when she managed to rasp his name, before a thrumming vibration shivered over her skin. It became stronger until she realized it was the same tone that he had expressed outside a few days ago. He was singing to her. It rushed through her belly and crashed over her spine, and she came, fingers denting the skin of his shoulders, her whole body tensing and arching into him, head thrown back, mouth open wide, calves on fire as she held on -

Lucifer slowed dramatically, and Maggie's high started to fade fast - no, no, keep going -

She opened her eyes enough to see his head thrown back, eyes bright while he grit his teeth to stop himself letting go. In a flash, she remembered what set him off the last time. Moving her hands from his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair, she gripped tight and pulled him to her, pressing her mouth against his to bite his lower lip to get him to open. When she drew his tongue to her own, she sucked hard. He rumbled deep in his chest, picked up his pace again which to ratcheted up the end of her own orgasm, and within a few thrusts was coming with a vibrating moan.

Separating from the kiss, Maggie gasped for breath, even though a small part of her said she didn't need to here. Not in this place. Pain, air, heat, and cold were just part of the imagination, part of the effect of being alive. Foreheads pressed together, Maggie opened her eyes to find him watching her, chest heaving like her own, but she didn't understand that effect, so she just ignored it. The moon made a sudden appearance in the sky behind her outside, where the cool light shone over half his face. His eyes glowed, and slowly his Grace radiated across his face like cracks in dry earth, revealing his Angelic form beneath. Still connected, Maggie's eyes fluttered when his Grace began to seep into her skin.

"Mine."

Her very essence answered back, and they poured into each other for what felt like an eternity -

Maggie was standing in the middle of the field, watching her house in the distance. She felt… different. No longer in the dark. No longer afraid.

No longer alone.

Lucifer materialized in front of her, in his Angelic form; lightning and energy, full, dark armor, and wings more intact than she had ever seen. Michael formed to their left, looking up at the sky. Lucifer followed his gaze, and so did Maggie. Above them, the clouds grew darker, roiling and pulsing to a strange beat. A distant sound grew louder, echoing through the grass and over the land.

Lucifer and Michael stepped back, expressions one of confusion, and even a little fear. They flanked either side of her, but she wasn't afraid. Something was emerging, shaking the ground, the very foundations of The Cage. The boundaries cracked, fracturing like glass. An object hurtled itself downwards, singing in the air until it buried itself in the ground in front of her.

Michael made a sound, followed by another that sounded like speech.

Lucifer turned to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Death is no more."

"The Darkness has been released." Michael intoned, clenching his hands by his sides.

Maggie didn't understand what that meant, but she could feel the drowning fear above them. The Darkness was on Earth, and Mankind was suffering.

She moved away from Lucifer, his hand falling absently from her shoulder when he was distracted by the wailing cries. She gripped the Scythe, released it from the ground with a jerk, and looked up to the dull sky above them, noting that the cracks were widening.

"Don't just stand there, then," she said. "The Cage is open."

She could see the two brothers look at each other out of her peripherals. "Winchesters," they said as one. They moved together, stepping forward, their forms shining. Lucifer wrapped himself around her from behind, spread his wings, and took off with his brother at his side.

Time to kick some ass.

A/N: I needed a break from my current projects, and thanks to an Anon on Tumblr, I decided to revisit this as a oneshot sequel to Being Human. Thank you, Nonny. xxx