My first true Supernatural fic. There's a theme going for me and writing fics from Lucifers from all fandoms. But this one is my first for this one. In which God chooses to stay with Lucifer after the fight with Amara because he was weakened and injured in that fight instead of going off on another extended leave of absense to go have fun with his sister. In other words, God faces responsibility as a parent.

Basically had this fic idea in my head since I first saw Lucifer's rant in Rock Never Dies. I am only now getting to the actual writing of it. Chapters will get bigger, hopefully.

Healing

Everything was pain. His Grace felt shattered, his vessel was gone completely as he had been ripped out of Castiel and his Jimmy suit and he was having trouble moving in any one direction.

His wings were dislocated so he was unable to fly to get away and find himself a possible hiding spot to lick his wounds. He needed to heal, to rest and to find a vessel.

Sam would never say yes again. He had finally gotten that message loud and clear.

Yet another thing in his life robbed of him. Some days he just hated absolutely everything.

He wondered what was going on in the battle. Did dad win, or lose? He had been aware of the sun fading, but it burning bright again after a few hours of waiting. He had no idea if that was a sign dad was dead or alive.

His inability to move was very annoying, but he at least would have time to heal. He would prefer to be in a vessel and curl up under sheets though. He was physically tired and he couldn't sleep in his natural form.

Time either distorted or he had blanked it out when he was aware he was no longer alone. He went on alert, his wings quivering but unable to rise and flare in a threatening display. He let out a warning growl to warn whoever it was away. He really should have known who it was. When he saw the body of Chuck walk into his field of visibility, he was slightly surprised.

"Oh, Lucifer. Look what she's done to you." Chuck walked forwards and a hand landed just above his top right wing. He bristled, metaphysical feathers puffing out.

His dad smiled sadly at him. "Yeah, I guess I earned that. I brought you a present."

And with a flick of a finger his old vessel, Nick, was lying on the ground in front of him. It was no longer rotted, perfect and empty. He hesitated, thinking there was some sort of trick in entering the offered vessel. He had liked Nick. All that pain had called out to him like a moth to a flame.

"I reinforced Nick so that he'll hold you as long as you want a vessel. Just like I did with Jimmy for Castiel. If you leave the vessel, just make sure he's somewhere out of the way from anyone who may see him as just a dead body."

Lucifer would have pondered more on that thought if he hadn't wanted to move and the only thing in his head was that with human limbs helping to hold his Grace together, he may be able to move again. He accepted the so called gift, pouring himself into Nick and finding it a lot more comfortable than it was during the apocalypse.

For about two seconds. Then he was reminded of the fact that human bodies have nerves. His Grace was coined to this vessel closely and his true body was badly hurt and weakened. Every single one of those nerves lit up signalling pain.

He screamed.

A hand was on his shoulder, holding him still and the pain drained slightly so it was bearable. "Shit, sorry. I forgot about the nerves. Either way, you're going to be in a lot of pain. I haven't got the power right now to just up and heal you after what Amara did to me. I can lessen the pain if I am in contact, but you'll have a long, slow, painful healing process."

He whined at that. "Oh, great. Ow. What happened anyway?"

He got a gentle rub on the back at that. "I'll tell you later. I'm taking you back to the Winchester's bunker. It will go a lot smoother if you are not conscious."

He nodded quickly, wanting to not be awake right then. "Sleep would be good. Put me out."

His dad looked down at him, stopped the oddly comforting back rubbing and within seconds he begun to have trouble keeping his eyes open.

"You'll be fine. Go to sleep, son."

He went to sleep.