He more climbed than flew up out of Hell. It was, needless to say, not a pleasant journey. It must have taken days, weeks perhaps, and when he finally burst out as a flickering mass of faded angelic energy, much smaller than usual, he could only drift around the interior of the convent until he regained some strength.
It was not much, but that was to expected. He'd ripped most of his power out and thrown it through the small portal to goodness only knew where. Angelic energy had a sense of embedding itself somewhere and keeping itself safe. Sometimes lost graces formed life in trees or other plants, sometimes it incased itself inside something. He could find it again, but that could wait. The journey out of Hell had wounded him anyway. He had to regroup, find a vessel, find Sam.
Unfortunately, he held no delusions that those would be the same thing. Not that it mattered for now. Being with Sam was the priority, not getting Sam to say yes.
Detroit. If there was anything left of Nick- and unless some humans had cleared it away, there would be- he could rebuild the vessel. Yes, go to Detroit.
He could travel in this shell of his true form, slowly, as smoky light and energy. He drifted, finding his way with the magnetic currents of the earth guiding him. Maryland wasn't too far from Detroit, five hundred miles, not much more. He didn't know how long it was he travelled, but finally the familiar sight of an old, abandoned building came into sight. He dove downward, pushing back the door and up the stairs through which Sam had once come to him to say yes.
The place was untouched. The streets around were empty. This was a derelict part of town, cleared out by the demons that had surrounded him in those times. No one had made any effort to check this old room, and the bones that lay on the floor were undisturbed.
Reforming one human being was easy enough. Muscle and skin and life stretched out over it, and Nick's eyes open, wide and terrified, and looked up at him with sudden recognition.
"Yes."
He wove his way in, pushing himself through every cell and nerve. Slowly the looseness of his true form gave way to something much more solid, and suddenly he could feel the hardwood of the floor underneath him, the half-rotten clothes that had still covered the bones brushing against his skin.
Sitting up was an effort. He felt drained, a bit like after his fight with Michael all those eons ago. Tired, he supposed.
But free.
The realisation hit him and he felt the corner of this new mouth stretch upward into a satisfied smile. Yes, free. And he could find Sam.
He got to his feet, rolling his head and stretching his back. Stiff, nothing like the exhilaration of being with Sam, but it would do.
It was night. He walked out onto the dark street, feeling the nippy air bite at him. Not that it bothered him. Something at his core had been cold since he fell, and it felt all the worse now he'd torn part of his grace out. No matter. Temperature he could handle. Getting to Sam was the important thing, and from their chats he knew Sam was at a bunker in Kansas. A thousand miles away.
Flying wasn't an option. He could feel no strength in his wings, if they were even still there. As it stood, he was likely currently no stronger than the average demon. But he was clever, and demons were stupid. Lucifer was a survivor, if nothing else.
He started walking. Gradually, this old part of town gave way to a newer, more inhabited area. It must have been late. Only the odd human wandered the streets, and those that passed close enough to him to see in the dark gave him curious looks, them waddled in their thick coats, and him in these flimsy, worn clothes of thin fabric.
That wouldn't do, he supposed. Standing out was not a good idea right now. Walking on, he slipped down a side alley between two closed shops. One sold clothes, if the crudely dressed mannequins in the front windows were anything to do by. He found a back door, popping the lock easily by merely pushing the door. He still had his strength, thankfully. In a moment faster than any human could comprehend, he had picked up the first shrill note of an alarm and mentally shut the system off, along with all its prying cameras.
The store was dark with the electric lighting turned off, but he could see just fine. There had been a time when he had planned to dress Sam in finery, because he deserved it, and Lucifer had dreamt of pure white clothes in Sam's form, a sight that would make him look like the angel he was. But aside from that, he'd never put much thought into clothes. Why would he? All of Heaven dressed the same.
He shed Nick's old clothes, destroying them with a mere thought. Best not to leave evidence. He soon found the section of the store with undergarments and found a pair simply enough. Socks, too, were nearby. The outer clothes were a little more complicated, racks and racks of different shapes and colours and designs. Jeans he'd seen Sam wear often enough, and Nick had too, so he found a pair, securing them with a slim leather belt.
There seemed a sea of different shirts. Vain humans, so obsessed with their appearance. He flicked through them idly, frowning at the strange phrases on some of them. What the hell was "swag"?
He settled on a simple plain white t-shirt. That would have been fine, but the humans outside had already been giving him weird looks for not being affected by the cold, so he found a grey jumper with a hood, and a black leathery jacket that zipped up at the front. Study boots, also black, not dissimilar to Nick's old ones, but they had practically worn through.
Now dressed in a way that wouldn't warrant unwanted attention, he slipped back out to the street and continued walking.
A large clock face in the middle of a paved circular area surrounded by shops told him it was approaching three in the morning. Underneath the clock was a large glass case displaying a map of the surrounding area. It seemed a place of tourist attraction, and the map with all its dots and squiggly lines pointed out various places of interest or use. One of these such points was a little symbol of an airplane.
Lucifer knew the basics of human forms of travel. There were the automobiles that puttered along the roads, the trains that clanked along their fixed railway lines, and the planes that flew up in the sky, fastest of them all. Well, fast sounded good right now.
Even with his depleted energy, walking was easy and he soon founded the place. 'Detroit Metro Airport' the large sign on the front read.
The building was bigger than most he'd seen. Even at this hour, it was brightly lit and people wandered the interior. Corridors stretched off in every direction it seemed, all polished and shining white. There were signs, thankfully, lots of them. He followed the arrows pointing to departures, entering another wide open space where people were queuing before various desks under a large sign reading: 'check in'.
Money. Humans always needed money. It was simple enough to use his power to locate a person with a large wad of those banknotes he'd seen and to transfer them to his own pocket.
He approached the ticket desk, joining the line of humans, though it was to his distaste to have to follow their rituals. Had this not been for Sam, he wouldn't have considered it worth it.
The queue was fairly short, presumably because of the late hour, and he soon found himself stood before a desk, behind which was a smartly-dressed human woman with pinned back dark hair.
"Hello, sir. How can I help you?"
"I need to get to Kansas."
"Kansas City International?"
He didn't know. Anywhere in Kansas would be close enough. It shouldn't take long to walk the rest of the way to the bunker. He could have walked from here, but he wasn't willing to wait days to find Sam, hence his participation in this charade. Besides, he was too tired right now. Ripping part of his grace out hadn't been easy.
"Yes, that'll do."
"One-way or return?"
He had no plans to return to anywhere Sam wasn't. "One-way."
The woman smiled and began tapping at her computer. "Okay, your name, sir?"
He opened his mouth, then paused. Stupid humans. Idiot humans. They knew nothing of the truth of what had happened, but they were happy to label him the bad guy and his name didn't go down well with them. "Luce."
"Surname?"
He paused again. "Winchester."
She tapped the information into her computer. "Okay, and if I could just see some I.D.?"
Lucifer frowned. "I.D.?"
"Passport, or driver's license? Anything with your details and picture will do."
Damn. Did he have enough strength left to conjure an illusion? He quickly scanned the surrounding human minds. What was a driving license? He gleamed an image of what one was expected to look like and caused the image of one to form in his hand, a little plastic rectangle with a picture of his current form and the name 'Luce Winchester'.
The woman studied it briefly, before nodding and Lucifer dropped his hand and gratefully allowed the image to disappear.
"Okay, that's great, sir. That'll be seven hundred and fifty-eight dollars, and your flight leaves in just under two hours."
He took the wad of cash from his pocket, quickly counting out the notes and pushing them across the desk. She blinked at them in mild surprise, and Lucifer frowned. What? That was money, wasn't it? What more did she want?
She began putting it into her little till nonetheless, handing him back two dollars in change. "Okay, sir? If you'd just like to hand over your baggage."
"I don't have any."
"Hand luggage?"
"None."
Again, she seemed a little surprised, but maintained her polite smile. "Okay, sir." She printed off a little slip with information on. "Here's your boarding pass. If you'd just like to head through there to your terminal."
He nodded, taking the pass and turning on his heel toward where she had pointed. Down more corridors he travelled, studying the ticket as he walked. It was informative, at least, telling him his flight number and time, and even a specific seat. It had his name- well, the name he'd given- printed on: Luce Winchester. He smiled at that.
The ticket said to head to gate A-6, so he followed the signs until he found the right area, finding, to his dismay, more airport staff he would have to talk to.
He joined the queue at a strange gateway, a doorless doorway through which everyone was being made to walk. These humans had such strange rituals. The men stood by it asked to see his boarding pass, and the I.D. again.
Lucifer scowled, conjuring the illusion into one hand once more. The men studied it, nodded.
He was gaining something of a perpetual headache with straining his powers this much. And to make matter worse, they made him take off the jacket and shoes he'd just got hold of, and as he walked under the weird doorway, it made a horrendous buzzing noise.
"Any metal on your person, sir?"
"Excuse me?"
"Belt buckles? Shoe straps?"
"I am wearing a belt, yes..." Why on earth did that matter?
"Lift your shirt, please?" One of the men said.
Lucifer frowned. The urge to simply stick his hand through the man's chest was increasing, but unfortunately that was likely to cause rather a bit of attention. His head throbbing, his whole form in this borrowed vessel, with half its grace missing, felt weak, and he just wanted to find Sam.
Sam.
Only for Sam did he lift the shirt as asked, letting them wave some ridiculous contraption over him which buzzed by his belt.
"Okay, go through," the man said eventually.
Lucifer shoved his shirt back down, less than pleased, and stalked onward.
Thankfully, he was soon able to make his way onto the plane. It was bigger than he'd expected, but still minute by angel standards. His true form in all its full size could have stepped on it. The thought gave him some satisfaction as he showed the boarding pass to a woman stood in the plane's entrance and she pointed him to his seat which was marked with a number.
It wasn't entirely uncomfortable thankfully, and it was next to a window. He leant back against the padding, letting the tiredness of his form overtake him. He felt the urge to shut his eyes, but years of Hell had taught him not to let his guard down. Of course he could easily overpower these humans, but he'd rather remain alert.
He suppressed a distasteful comment as a human bumbled over and dropped down into the seat beside him. Already the plane was full of babbling humans conversing and their infants screaming. The sound was grating to him.
Thankfully the female human beside him was rather quiet. She was elderly and dressed rather somberly, in mostly black, with trimmed edge of white. Even her hair was mostly covered.
Lucifer watched her disinterestedly from the corner of his eye. She had bowed her head, hands clasped together. She remained like that for a few moments, before raising her head and noticing Lucifer watching her.
"I hope you don't mind," she said. "I've never liked flying. It puts my mind at ease to pray for our Lord to give us a safe flight."
"Our Lord?" Did she mean...?
"Almighty God, of course," the woman said. "He protects those who put their love and faith in him."
Something vague urge within him wanted to rage, to beat this stupid human woman until she knew how wrong she was. I loved him. I had faith in him. And for that he cast me out...
But right now, he was too tired.
"Protects them from what?"
"From harm," the woman explained patiently. "From the Devil's sin and temptation."
It was an effort to keep the smirk from his face. "The Devil? What does he do then?"
"He tempts us away from God's path. He whispers in humans ears to lead them to sin."
Lucifer made a small noise of amusement, looking away as the plane's engines began to whir. "I assure you," he said. "I have better things to do."
Lucifer did not find the flight very enjoyable. It was strange and felt unsteady, and horribly slow. He could have flown round the earth multiple times in the two hours it took them to finally touch down in Kansas.
The woman had left him alone soon after his last comment, appearing to find him unnerving, which Lucifer found somewhat amusing.
He had hoped to sense some hint of his grace as they travelled, but he had picked up nothing. He would have to search for it soon, when he regained some strength.
The humans at this new airport wanted to see the I.D. again. He suffered through their stupid routines, before finally making his way out onto the street. The sky was slowly lightening, and with the sun rising behind him, he began walking.
The sky was blue by the time he reached Lebanon, Kansas, finding his way through the impressions he'd got from Sam's memories through the weak connection they'd had during their conversations. His legs felt heavy, his head aching. Even his eyes felt tired as they scanned the secure double doors of the bunker entrance.
It would be locked, surely. He could hardly just go up and knock on the door. Dean would be there, of course. He certainly had no desire to meet with the older Winchester brother. Especially after what had happened with Gadreel. Lucifer wasn't sure he would be able to restrain himself from lashing out at Dean for treating Sam's consent with such little respect.
He wandered round the large building, studying the area until he found some kind of wide backdoor. From the track of road leading to it, he presumed it was for automobiles.
It was locked, but easy enough for his power to pop open and lift for him to slip under.
Sure enough, Dean's precious car was inside, along with some other vehicles. There was another door that led out into the building, so Lucifer headed past the cars and quietly through it.
There were many corridors, but hearing a faint sound of movement in the distance- further than any human could hear- he headed toward it.
Silently rounding a corner, he could see into the entrance of a small kitchen room, and something within him seemed to swell in relief as he recognised the tall, long-haired form stood with his back to him as he placed things away in a high cupboard.
For a few moments, he just watched him. He studied the stretch of plaid fabric against his broad shoulders as he moved, the soft sway of his hair, the muscles in his arms. Truly beautiful.
"Hi, Sam."
Sam jumped, an empty mug in one hand slipping from his grip and clattering into the sink. The hunter spun on the spot, hand reaching quickly toward his belt for some kind of weapon, before he realised who had addressed him. Sam froze, eyes wide. His mouth had dropped open. He seemed to make several attempts to speak, before the word finally choked its way out of his mouth. "L-Lucifer..."
He stepped further into the room, stopping just before Sam.
"What?" Sam's eyes kept running over him, as if unsure what he was seeing was really real. "How did..."
"You sounded like you needed a friend," Lucifer said. "And I'm always here for you, Sam."
There were tears in Sam's eyes. Hand shaking, he slowly reached out and gently touched Lucifer's arm. "You... You're really here."
"Yes, Sam." Sam had told him about the hallucination, the warped, self-depreciating attack of Sam's own consciousness on itself, tainted by Hell to try and convince him that the being that had always cared for him was angry at him. "I promise you it's me, Sam."
"You..." Sam seemed to swallow thickly, forcing his words. "You shouldn't be here," he whispered, glancing anxiously toward the door. "Dean..."
"I came for you, Sam."
An anxiousness was quickly creeping onto Sam's face. Lucifer could practically hear his thoughts racing in a panic. "Dean can't see you. You have to hide somewhere. My room. Go wait for me there."
In the brief exhilaration at finally having found Sam, he had forgotten the weakened state of his powers, and that flying currently wasn't an option. The attempted surge of power made his head spin, and unable to stop himself, Lucifer felt his body sway with a lack of balance, as Sam rushed to grab him.
"Lucifer!" The Hunter exclaimed. "What... What's wrong?"
He groaned, pushing himself off of Sam and adamantly taking his own weight. Such a pitiful display was not something he would have preferred Sam to see. "I'm fine. My powers need to recuperate. I... I had to split my grace to squeeze out of the cage."
"What? What do you mean?"
Lucifer waved his questions away. "I'm sorry, Sam, I'm not at my best right now. If you have somewhere secure, I would appreciate being able to rest there."
"Yeah," Sam whispered quickly. He sounded like he was struggling to keep up, but jumped into action nonetheless. He grasped Lucifer's hand. "We'll have to sneak upstairs. Come on."
