Chapter 10

Steal into My Melancholy Heart

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Gabriel asked for what must have been the hundredth time.

Lucifer bit the inside of his cheek to keep from responding with a particularly nasty retort. He understood his brother's concern – this being the first time that Gabriel would be away from the Bunker for what could possibly be several days to a couple weeks – but Lucifer was only essentially human, not a child.

"If you ask me that one more time, I will punch you in the face," he threatened, leveling a glare on the other's smaller and younger form. "Mary and Castiel will be here with me, and the worst that could happen would be me falling down the stairs or something."

Gabriel's concern didn't let up, but he did stop pushing the subject. They had talked about this before anyways – about a week or two ago. At some point, Gabriel would eventually have to leave Lucifer by himself for a while to go help the Winchester brothers because of whatever they'd done to get into whatever mess they'd gotten into. This way – Sam and Dean had come across a string of what looked like fae murders (as in, fairies that had been killed) – at least, Lucifer could make the decision himself that he was ready and it wasn't some emergency.

And Lucifer wanted to do this. Not just to show the others that he was relatively fine now, but also to prove it to himself. Nothing was the same, none of it. It was something that went unspoken in the Bunker as well as written in stone. What happened was simply what happened. It wasn't referred to by any other way. Lucifer didn't remember what happened – not consciously anyway. Gabriel refused to tell him about it, and the humans and Castiel didn't know enough about everything that happened to give him the whole picture. So Lucifer was left to recover from a glaring hole in his memories as well as the sudden loss of his wings.

That first week was filled with pain. The gaping double wounds where his wings used to be slowly healed over. It took less time than it would have for a human, but the aching scars were a constant reminder. He could cope with the pain (that was something he was used to), but the void of his grace was crippling. Adjusting to his essentially-human status was stressful for the others, he knew. There were times when he'd lash out in anger or whatever emotion fouled his mood that day. Other times he'd fall into some despair induced depression, locking himself away in a tedious world of darkness.

Acceptance was the easiest and hardest part of the entire process – the "road to recovery" or whatever. Accepting what happened was probably harder for Gabriel than it was for Lucifer, but coming to terms with the aftermath couldn't have been easy for any of them, especially Lucifer. Remembering to eat and sleep and drink and bathe and go to the restroom were nothing compared to waking up or finding something else that he couldn't do like he used to. And as much as Lucifer hated being like this, it was so much worse for his little brother. So on his better days, Lucifer kept his mouth shut; at the very least, he could keep Gabriel from succumbing to guilt.

Honestly, truthfully, from the bottom of his very human heart and locked away grace, Lucifer didn't blame Gabriel for any of it. Nor did he place any blame on the Winchesters or Castiel. He didn't have anyone to blame except himself, and even then, he'd long ago accepted that he couldn't have done anything about it neither then nor now.

"Gabriel," Lucifer gently called to the form of the thirteen-year-old boy. "I'll be fine," he reassured him, getting up and moving over to put a grounding hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "If I'm not, you'll take care of it when you get back."

Golden hair fell in a curtain over amber eyes. "You're a real ass-hat, you know that?"

"You love me anyways," Lucifer lightly teased, ruffling his little brother's hair.

Gabriel sighed, relenting and letting Lucifer mess up his hair before moving to smack the offending hand away. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone," he ordered with a soft edge to his tone.

"What fun would that be?" Lucifer scoffed. "Besides, you're the one going off on a case with Sam and Dean."

Shaking his head, Gabriel rolled his eyes. He was gone within the next blink of an eye, joining Sam and Dean – who had left earlier that morning.

Settling down on his bed, Lucifer sighed and went back to reading 1984. Literature. It was something he was starting to really appreciate. Well, it was just reading that helped rather than the content. It was a way for him to focus on anything other than himself and what happened.

He looked up and glanced over at the digital clock Gabriel had put on his nightstand at one point or another. It was 7:36… PM. Letting out a weary sigh, Lucifer ran a tired hand over his face. He didn't care to admit his was still exhausted from barely getting any sleep over the last few nights, and he seriously doubted that he'd get any tonight.

That didn't keep his eyes from drifting shut as the numbers on the clock silently ticked up to 1:57 AM.

Black. Dark, dark black nothing.

Can't move. Can't breathe. Don't need to breathe.

Silence. Sound. A voice. Female. Scottish. Bitch— no. Witch.

"It's rather weird, to be honest. Seeing such a passionate beast being so… docile."

Wrong. Not right. That wasn't right. Wrongwrongwrong.

A tsking noise. A different voice. Male. British. So familiar. The faint stirrings of recognition crushed by the hold. That damned fog wrapped around his mind, his grace, his soul— "Shame he doesn't even act like the prick he really is."

Quiet. Nothing again. There'snothingthereatall— does he even exist?

Doesn't matter. Of course it doesn't. There's no point in fighting back against it. Not against something that grew like the parasite it was into the very core of his grace. To remove it was to remove himself.

No. Nononononono. Not right again. Wrong. Always wrong—

Pain. Painpainpain— right where his wings should have been. That blade cutting through skin and muscle and bone and tearing into his essence—

Lucifer jolted upright from the awkward position he fell asleep in. He struggled to regain control of his breathing. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In. Out. In. Out. Steady. Steady. His hands were still shaking, knuckled white because of the tight grip on the sheets. At least he hadn't ripped them again. It took him another minute to feel the cool air touching his sweat-stained clothes.

The memory-dream-nightmare was already fading. He knew better than to try and hold onto it. That always ended with a headache (not just for him).

"Calm down," he muttered to himself, ignoring how unstable he sounded even to himself.

This was real. It was just a dream (a memory). It was over, gone, done with, the past. In every sense of the meaning. It could haunt him, but that didn't mean he should just let it affect him. He needed to pull himself back together. He could do it. He had to.

He stripped out of the now-disgusting clothes he'd fallen asleep in and redressed himself in some of the clothes Gabriel had gone out and actually bought for Lucifer. Lucifer had found it ridiculous to change what he was wearing every day, but Gabriel kept insisting and eventually it just became habit. Most of what he wore looked almost exactly the same either way.

Lucifer made his way to the kitchen, where Castiel would be by now despite it being only four in the morning. Lucifer preferred the coffee that Mary brewed but she was usually up around five. Still, Castiel made a decent cup of coffee. Besides, Lucifer didn't care for actually drinking the coffee – he just enjoyed the smell.

However, Lucifer realized that he'd made a mistake as soon as he entered the kitchen. Mary was, in fact, very awake in spite of the time. Of course she'd be awake. Sam and Dean were out on a case. Not that she was overly worried to the point of insomnia – there was always the chance that you might not come back from a case alive, a risk that every human shared. It was pure motherly instinct that she woke up earlier than she usually did when her sons were out hunting.

So he should have expected her to be leaning against the main counter in the kitchen, talking quietly with Castiel, who replied with his own quiet responses every once in a while. Lucifer continued staring at them for another moment before suddenly blurting out: "I'm going outside."

Mary's eyes quickly snapped over to where he was standing in the doorway, obviously not realizing he'd been there for at least five minutes. Castiel on the other hand only slowly moved his gaze to Lucifer, narrowing his eyes and taking in Lucifer's disheveled state.

"It's raining," the angel said bluntly.

Mary glanced back at Castiel when Lucifer didn't respond in any way to Castiel's statement. And that's all it was. A statement, not an approval nor a rejection. "Don't wander too far," she added, inputting her own opinion in a neutral manner.

Lucifer stiffly nodded and then practically flew to the front door (except he couldn't fly anymore, never again). How long had it been since he'd been outside? A while, at the very least – perhaps a couple weeks, give or take. It had been a very long time since he'd last stood in the rain.

They had gotten caught in the middle of a light downpour sometime in the middle of February. The boy didn't seem to mind though. In fact, he even insisted that they walk back to the hotel they were staying at even though it was barely warm enough to go outside without a jacket. Lucifer had been too caught up in memorizing the boy's smile to notice the darkening clouds, and then the first few droplets of water landed on the boy's skin.

Gabriel Bennett had stopped and looked down at his hand, where he felt the first drop land on his fair skin. At the second – or maybe third – drop, he looked up at the gray sky. His smile changed, and Lucifer found that it was different from all the others he'd seen on the boy's face.

The boy must have seen the confusion on his face, felt the question brushing against his consciousness, because he turned his brown gaze over to Lucifer's projection. "The rain. It reminds me of you."

Lucifer still didn't completely understand the boy's comparison. He could easily tell how the boy had associated Lucifer to some of the water's aspects, but that could never explain why the boy had smiled at the thought. Nor could it explain the joy he felt – still relatively early into the six months they'd spent doing as they'd pleased, when it would still be another month before the boy finally admitted aloud that Lucifer made him happy. Truly happy. More than anyone else who wasn't a part of his family.

Even standing outside of the Bunker and listening to the soft pitter-patter of the rain hitting the ground and already-formed puddles, Lucifer still didn't understand.

They were caught in the rain on purpose this time. The boy had "missed the feeling," or so he'd said. Perhaps it had been a good thing that they were in the middle of nowhere. Lucifer had been able to see out of the boy's eyes – the gray sky filled with heavy clouds and the water that fell like tears. He'd heard the distant rumble of thunder filter through the boy's ears and had tasted the water in the air.

For once, he felt like he was home.

Lucifer was already soaking wet by the time he sat down on the cold concrete. A funny thought tickled the back of his mind. This was where he and Gabriel had sat to watch a sunrise, where they decided that maybe they could have their happy ending after all. And it had been happy, for a while. It was miserable right now, but it wasn't like their time was over yet. It was never over.

Looking upwards, Lucifer squinted as some of the rain fell onto his face, splashing onto his nose and cheeks and into his eyes. He liked this. It was… relaxing, soothing. He didn't need to think, just feel. At some point he closed his eyes and lost himself in the hypnotic sounds and soft touches of the rain.

~o-O-o~

His wrists were starting to hurt again, which was expected, considering all of the reports that he typed day in and day out. At this point, he was legitimately considering getting a brace just for him to be able to tell his partner that he had in fact attempted to do something about his carpal tunnel. He leaned back in his chair, flexing his fingers and gently stretching all of the muscles and tendons in his hands and wrists.

It was too early in the morning to have his wrists hurting already. Grey eyes flickered over to the clock at the bottom right hand corner of his computer screen. Okay, so it was just past midday. Still too early for him to be feeling the burning pain his in wrists.

"Hungry?"

He looked up, tensing only to relax (slightly) at seeing the only other person on base. "Don't you know how to knock?"

"I had thought I'd made my presence rather noticeable, but then again, you were in your own little world for a while there."

The impulse to roll his eyes was barely kept at bay. They weren't friends… not really. It wasn't a compatibility thing – more that neither of them were suited to have friends, especially considering their 'jobs'. And yet, they were probably the closest that either could have to an actual friend. He never dwelled on the thought long enough to decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

Nevertheless, he let out a sigh, gesturing for his co-worker to put the plate of hot food down on the one corner of his desk that was paper free. "I have a new mission for you," he told the other once his 'friend' had moved back a respectable distance from his work space.

"Good. That is, as long as it gives me a break from those blasted fairies."

"Then I suppose you'll be glad to hear it's a werewolf."

The other man's grin was positively feral. Sometimes he questioned whether or not his partner was actually human. He already knew the man wasn't normal – no one with his skill set could ever be considered normal, not even in their lifestyle. Lady Bevell claimed that the other was a psychopath, and while he hadn't ruled out that comment as fact, he rather thought the other man just only acted like a person around a very specific group of people. The man was amiable enough around him.

"Ah, yes. Something I can call a true hunt."

No, there was definitely something not human about his co-worker. He just couldn't quite place what it was though. "You'll be leaving soon then, Ketch?"

"Do try to have another ready for me soon, Mick. I'll be back before you know it."

Sometimes, that was what Mick Davies was most afraid of.

~o-O-o~

Occasionally, Lucifer didn't have nightmares. Instead of those subconscious memories, his mind would be filled with echoes of a time before everything. They're tales of a forgotten age. Whispers that told tales of fantasy and legend – of something that had once been simply truth. But when he woke, he forgot those dreams. They slipped away just like the nightmares did. In the midst of his world of hurt, it would have been nice to be able to remember those dreams. Even if they caused more pain just by existing.

Lucifer could remember, though. Unlike the gaps in his memory from what happened, he could remember those times from before. They were from the beginning of his life, his existence. But they were still clear as day. He just had to let his mind drift back, let it blank out so those impossible images could fill the void.

He missed it.

He missed that time when time had no meaning. He missed the simplicity – how there wasn't a right or a wrong. There simply was. And it was just them. Their little family.

Lucifer could see it, sometimes, in his new family – the one that was so similar yet so different from his first family. He could see his brothers in Sam and Dean, human though they were. He found a parent in Mary that he'd never thought to have. And while Castiel and Gabriel couldn't ever be as close to him as Lucifer had once been to Michael, he sought and received comfort in his brothers' presence.

Left alone, Lucifer lost himself to thoughts like these – they gave him peace, a calm state of mind that he couldn't seem to find during any other time.

Maybe it was the rain.

~o-O-o~

Castiel tried not to worry too much when Lucifer didn't come back inside after two hours. He told himself that, no, he hadn't looked at the phone Dean had given to him ten times in the past six minutes – three hours after Lucifer had suddenly blurted out that he was going outside. Another three hours passed by without Castiel wanting them to.

Sam had expressively told him that if he needed anything or if Lucifer was having problems, to call them no matter what.

Seven hours. Castiel found himself glancing over to his cellphone again. Mary was in the library, probably reading the Men of Letters' books or catching up on recent news. Lucifer was still outside. At the eight hour mark, Castiel decided that (at the very least) he should try to check on Lucifer before calling. He didn't have to go very far once exiting the Bunker.

The rain had stopped, though the sky was still gray and water was nearly flooding the ground just past the hard concrete. Castiel couldn't hear anything except for the soft crunch of his footsteps as he walked forward to get a better view of Lucifer, who sat on top of the Bunker's entrance. It was as if the world had gone quiet, silently waiting for Castiel to initiate a conversation with the once graceful and all-mighty being before him.

"You'll get a cold, sitting out here with your clothes wet."

Lucifer didn't even twitch. The parts of his grace that Castiel could see behind that unexplainable fog which shrouded Lucifer's presence flickered with recognition. Light blue eyes slowly blinked open, drawing themselves down until they met a deeper shade of blue. It took another minute for true awareness to take root in those eyes, but Castiel felt a rush of something stir in his own grace.

"I might be the closest an angel can get to being human, but we both know that I don't get sick," Lucifer finally responded.

It was true. Despite having to eat and sleep and hydrate and take care of his hygiene, Lucifer hadn't once shown that he could fall ill. In fact, he appeared to heal at a rate much faster than a human would – most likely due to still having his grace within him, even if it was inaccessible. The… wounds on his back had become only scars within the first week after they'd been inflicted. And while the Winchesters had been concerned about the chance of the holes in Lucifer's back becoming infected, they hadn't needed to worry.

Small miracles were precious commodities.

Lucifer was staring at him, blinking every so often, and Castiel was struggling to figure out what to say next, just standing there in the middle of a puddle. What could he say? He wanted to ask Lucifer to come back inside, but it didn't seem right. Not with the way Lucifer radiated contentedness out here. And so, Castiel stayed silent, merely watching as puffs of white crystalized air left Lucifer's lungs whenever he breathed.

Eventually Lucifer sneezed, breaking the calm between them. The fallen archangel let out an aggravated groan and then sniffled, wiping a hand under his nose. Those light blue eyes shifted off to the side, glancing up before looking back to Castiel.

"I think I missed lunch," Lucifer mumbled, knowing that Castiel would still hear him.

Castiel felt the comings of a smile forming on his face. "You didn't eat breakfast either."

"What time is it… exactly?"

"Just past three in the afternoon," Castiel informed him.

"Um…" Lucifer rubbed his forehead with his other hand. "Snack and then dinner sometime afterwards?"

That smile was rather insistent. Castiel reached into one of his trench coat's pockets and pulled out a granola bar, waving it at Lucifer to get his brother's attention before tossing it up to him. Lucifer caught it (only Lucifer and Castiel would ever know that he almost didn't catch it) and unwrapped the chocolate covered protein bar, taking a bite out of it after glaring at it for a second. Castiel waited for Lucifer to finish his snack, planning on directing him inside afterwards. But Lucifer didn't make any move to do so. The angel shifted on his feet before acting on impulse to go up and sit beside his older brother. It was also on impulse that Castiel spoke up again.

"I understand that our circumstances aren't the same, but talking about it, any of it, could help..." Castiel started, inwardly cringing at how 'chick-flick' he sounded. Or so Castiel had been told by Dean when he tried to do the same to him once.

Lucifer tensed, relaxing in small increments until he frowned – as if he'd just remembered something important that he really should have known before. "You had your grace taken..."

Castiel's brow contorted into a frown of his own at the reminder. "I became fully human for a while, yes," he responded with a slight inclination of his head.

A dark look entered Lucifer's eyes, chasing away the easy light that had filled them only minutes ago.

"So you felt it, then? The hollowness? That soul deep ache?"

Castiel slowly nodded. "It's not pleasant, grace or not."

"I'm tired, Castiel."

Taking Lucifer's words as a dismissal, Castiel gained a saddened look. "We don't have to talk if you don't want to."

"No, no—" Lucifer quickly interrupted, correcting Castiel's assumption. "This helps. It does a little bit, I guess."

Castiel smiled.

A/N: I am taking some liberties with the BMOL because of plot reasons…

Anyways, kudos to anyone who recognized a certain OC from the last chapter. I put in a scene with her mainly for some context as to what's going on in Heaven at the moment, and also because someone reviewed in my City of Angels fic that I should have a crossover with some of the characters from that fic… well, this is as close as that would ever get, considering that a lot of the characters from that story are OCs – Kemuel being the main one. If you haven't read City of Angels, just know that she's… let's just say fond of the archangels and some of her younger angelic siblings think that she should be in a relationship with Gabriel. But whatever.

Reviews? Comments? Questions?

Last edited: [August 12, 2018]