A random knock on the door, at any time, was never welcomed news.

Sam felt that having his hand behind his back on his weapon as he approached the door, Cas having gone off to attend to something for a few minutes, was a testament to his very screwed up existence. Wasn't like it was late or anything else off about it, just that they didn't get people dropping on by. Even packages were handled differently if at all possible. As Bobby always said, "Just because you have an address doesn't mean you need to broadcast it."

All he could make out through the window was that it was man, a rather miserable looking one who had his head down, arms wrapped around him. Something was pinging in his head, something familiar with the blonde hair even if the clothes he could see, mostly an ill-fitting jacket, didn't raise any memories.

He swung the door open a little, cautious, watching, trying to think of what to say as whoever this guy was, it was obvious he was sick.

"Don't pray."

Fear, something bottoming out in him before that head lifted and he saw. Oh, he saw the face that had haunted his dreams, chased him, claiming that they were two of a kind, the same and that they were always, always destined to be together. The one that had instructed demons to poison families and keep watch over him for his whole damn life. There was a flare of pure rage before Lucifer went into a coughing fit, deep and rough.

A hysterical part of him wanted to insist this was just his human vessel who somehow tracked Sam down, showed up for help. But that wasn't right, it was too easy, and if there was one thing this universe was, it wasn't handing over easy wins.

"What do you want?"

Lucifer couldn't answer as he was still getting his breathing under control but it was clear as day to Sam that the devil was looking at him with some kind of hope. That his wayward vessel was going swing that door right on open and welcome him inside in this new human adventure.

Sam would have none of it, he wouldn't, except Lucifer wasn't doing good, eyes glassy, swaying, when he stepped forward his legs gave out a little and Sam managed to grab him on instinct, cursing himself for doing something so foolish. It wasn't until this moment that Sam saw just how dirty the devil was, shoes with dried mud, clothes flecked with it, a sheen of sweat on the skin. Putting his hand on Lucifer's forehead, it was easy to feel that he was burning up with fever, the rattling in his lungs the big flashing sign as to just what that noise was constantly vibrating in the air.

He debated with himself for a minute before deciding it was best to get Satan off the front porch.

One, it was common sense. Two, the warding on the house wouldn't let him inside unless he was human or one of the few non-humans allowed. To Sam's dismay, Lucifer had no problems outside of the physical effort coming into the house, Sam closing and locking the door behind them. He had half a mind to just leave Lucifer to sprawl himself out in the hallway before half-dragging him into the study.

It was worrisome how easily the devil came, how willingly he just curled up on the couch into a tight little ball, sick and hurting, but more at ease just being here.

"No tricks. Don't try anything." His demand was just met with a simple nod, Lucifer shaking and Sam's hands checked his clothes. "Your all wet. Are you injured anywhere?"

"No."

Voice still hoarse and barely there.

"Human?"

"Yes."

Sam ran his hand through his hair, debating with himself because he had personally seen this thing tossed back in the pit. But he also personally knew the archangel Michael was his brother and that God at some point had bopped on by to remove Raphael as a threat. Apparently, digging out Satan for a lesson in humility had been on the To-Do list, and Sam knew that was the big reason he was even considering helping.

"Try to get out of some of that clothing, I'll be right back."

Lucifer seemed less inclined to move and if he was honest, Sam didn't blame him. He'd been that sick before, and he didn't want to think what it would feel like to something that never felt ill, or hungry, or needed sleep.

Slipping out he made his way to the closet where he kept some spare clothes, whispering to Cas a short-hand version of what was going on, along with the plea to not pray.

Cas was just beside him, eyes wide.

"He is human."

"Yeah, looking that way," Sam said, getting out some sweats and a t-shirt as he wasn't sharing underwear with Satan. He didn't even do that with Dean.

The angel was quiet as Sam went back to the study. Lucifer to his credit had been attempting to work his boots off but hadn't gotten real far in the undressing category. Sam didn't miss how those eyes looked fearful at the sight of Cas standing there, studying all of this. Then, with purpose, Cas marched forward and slammed his hand against Lucifer's forehead before anyone could say anything. Lucifer wasn't the only one that flinched even though nothing happened, that rattling breathing still filling in for silence.

"I cannot heal you."

That wasn't good and Sam kneaded his lip as he went in more, putting the clothes on Bobby's desk before crouching down to help with the boots. A hand wave and Lucifer's clothes were a pile on the floor and the devil was wearing what Sam had brought with him.

So, at least that little bit of angel magic was still functioning.

"Do you know what he's sick with, Cas? We can get the right meds if we know what it is."

"I do, yes." A pause, Cas still looking at his fallen brother with narrowed eyes, Lucifer unable to keep the gaze and Sam knew he just wanted to lay back down. "Do you know how you are here?"

"No."

"I will return shortly with what is needed. Do not vex me, Lucifer. You have a small reprieve before I must inform heaven."

He was gone and Sam was torn between feeling panicked and absolutely relieved to not be under the intensity that was Cas. Getting himself upright again, he went and got a blanket, coaxing Lucifer to lay down.

"I'll get you something for the fever and something to drink."

With those words, Lucifer finally relaxed a little, curling back up under the wool. He looked so tiny, so not like what Sam had only seen in person a couple of times, the confident if not unhinged archangel who believed he could do what he wanted because he was right. Sam wanted to shake him, demand to know why Lucifer would come to him of all people but he already knew. Oh, there were so many reasons, between Lucifer's obsession with him to his views that the two of them were the same but in the end, it most likely boiled down to the fact that there was no one else.

Dean would probably call him an eternal sap for not just shooting him on the porch and instead, believing that God had arranged at least part of this. If his brother didn't just shiv him for not doing the responsible thing and killing Satan, that is.

He put water on to boil for some tea, getting a glass of water, attention never fully off the half-asleep devil on his couch but nothing happened. Just the idea settling more into him that things were bound to get worse.

~x~

Their stench of sulfur was the easiest to find, standing out to him against all the smells on earth.

This one, sunk well into the human body and seeming to want to look normal, was hiding. There were clipped thoughts of some purge Crowley was doing against the Lucifer supporters and Dean shook his head a little, watching this thing as it was in a crowd currently.

The soul in the body the demon was in was pushed down, not outwardly screaming but if it ever regained control, reconnected to its physical brain, all of that would change. All the actions of the creature in her were recorded in bright detail and they would become her own memories, her own deeds.

He had seen it over and over again, humans too traumatized to continue, curled up and weeping at his feet. There was only one way to deal with these things now.

His steps were right behind her, people flowing around them. Her look made him think of the vessels Lilith always preferred when taking an adult – she had a type and went after it no matter where on earth she had to scrounge one up from. Long blond hair, lithe frame catching the eyes of some men and a few women as she walked sure and full of confidence and Dean wondered how the soul in there usually walked, just who was mourning her missing body.

It was nearing dusk as the demon turned down a less crowded street but he refrained from pulling her now. Any extra grace usage just attracted Gabriel sooner.

Lilith. The one who had no choice and was probably the only one he could feel anything towards, no matter how twisted in the end she had become. Her fears that she wasn't as immortal as his brother had tried to make out, tied up into this big game with no reprieve. For her, he could feel something close to pity even if it was fleeting.

The rest came to be this under their own drive. The princes wanting power and glory, Cain wanting his brother and just succumbing when it got difficult, the souls that went downstairs every day selling themselves for fleeting things on earth and damning themselves into eternal torment. Even he had done that.

She was walking up to a house, digging keys out of her pocket and he knew no one else was home right now. He wondered how many souls she had tortured in hell, the perfect machine where the old turned the new and there would always be new because humans were easily tricked.

The door opening and they were both inside, Michael still hidden from her sight as she closed the door, looking relieved. There were photos of a family with her host in them in this entry hallway as she turned the deadbolt.

There wasn't even time for her to cry out as he slammed his hand onto her forehead, the demon inside burning, the host body collapsing, eyes restored and looking peaceful crumpled into a heap in the hallway. Her shocked soul was standing there, staring at him, as a reaper came.

"Go with your reaper," he said as she looked uncertain. Her soul was still pure and there was no reason to fear. "You will torment your family if you do not."

With a good deal of trepidation she went. Her human family would mourn her sudden death and move on and he took flight.

The smell of sulfur was ever-present on earth.

~x~

"And you didn't think to tell me this sooner?"

Gabriel was tense, a slight glow in his eyes, and Castiel had little answer for him other than he was trying to balance two requests at once. It wouldn't help in this situation, his brother's fists curled at his sides after just returning to view Sam's unwelcomed house guest. So he remained silent, understanding there was no answer he could give that would be satisfactory to his older brother.

"When's the last time Deano skipped on by to check on Sam?" Gabriel finally asked, the shadows around them deepening in this field close to Singer's.

"At least two weeks. I have to protect his dreams every night now." He wanted to add but didn't that Michael had come every night before, had always eased Sam off to sleep and it was comforting even if his oldest brother didn't want to be found.

"So, the likelihood of him knowing about Satan taking up residence with his Sammy is probably nil." Gabriel tilted his head back a little, his features scrunching up in something Castiel could only call consternation. "You know it's going to end like super violently, right? Like, you two can't keep your evil house guest chillin' on the couch. Where's the old geezer that has common sense?"

"Out on a case."

There was something else wrong with Gabriel, he was beginning to realize that now. His brother had so many human mannerisms, so many little tells he had developed over his time as a pagan god, and it surprised him that Gabriel himself seemed not as aware of them as he should be. Nervous, his brother was nervous and it wasn't fitting.

"Gabriel, do you know how Michael is?"

Silence, Gabriel still in that tense pose, and Castiel worried more.

"Do you know why he has ceased visiting Sam?" he asked, afraid of the answer now as he had hoped, maybe in a fit of denial, that Michael's absence was merely due to self-introspection.

"You know Mike's been having issues –"

"I need to know what kind, right now, Gabriel," he said, cutting off whatever blanket statement his brother was about to say. He appreciated that Gabriel looked slightly angry. "Whether or not I am assigned to Sam Winchester, I would still protect him. Not having complete information goes against that."

"Pushy little thing, aren't you?"

Gabriel was closer now and Castiel could see that he had been correct, anger and apprehension radiated off his brother. He stood his ground, as he had not said anything untrue and he was reaching a point where he was exhausted with not having answers. A small head shake, Gabriel's eyes dropping a little and Castiel knew he would greatly dislike the answer coming.

"Mikey's gone on a demon purifying kick, leaves the hosts dead too, now." His brother's voice was soft, and he barely managed to school his reaction to that news.

Sam. Sam poisoned by demon blood, who had consorted with demons, still smelled like one of them even if he never would be.

"I take it that it is not just a few."

"He's been amping up over the last little bit. Was once or twice a day and often with a monster he found."

"And today?"

"Two dozen."

"I see."

Sam and Lucifer under one roof was a fire waiting to happen and he sorely wished his brother would offer to move their fallen brother turned human somewhere far away. It was already complicated enough to explain to Sam that he hadn't done anything to chase Dean away and watch the boy drown in his guilt. Now, if Michael found them harboring Lucifer, it would be a great betrayal in his mind and he didn't know what Michael would do to any of them.

"I have no objections to you moving him."

"Oh no," Gabriel said, waving a finger at him. "You two muttonheads are in this now. Dad let Luci loose on earth for a reason and I am not getting in the way of this. Not anymore. You two want to distance yourselves – you figure out where the hell to stick the devil. And if I were you, I'd get it right."

With that he was alone and he mulled over his choices. He could leave Lucifer somewhere. Sam was talented enough with fake documents and money that they could set up an identity for him. The problem that neatly presented itself was that Lucifer was still a wealth of information, more than likely had resources stored on earth somewhere, and more than likely would have followers eager enough to help him even as a human. Unsupervised and bitter, his brother could still do a great deal of damage or be drug off and tortured for said knowledge.

He was uncertain and he knew to be guarded when he spoke to Sam. It would do no good for the man to know his brother couldn't stand visiting him due to his tainted soul and he took flight, unwilling to leave Sam alone with the devil for too long, no matter how sick the latter truly was.

~x~

Cas had convinced Sammy to go out for a few minutes, probably to catch a breather as his brother looked downright spent and Michael smiled a little. It gave him time outside of their constant hovering as he heard the door close behind their soft voices.

He found Lucifer half dozing in the spare bed, leaning back on pillows and he felt disgusted. His fallen brother had been sick enough to warrant them using an IV to push meds and fluids and all the things Lucifer did not deserve. None of these things should be for him, used for him, given to him. Pale skin and sickly breathing masked the monster underneath all of this, the ancient being that had twisted himself up into knots because he didn't get his way.

Unfelt, he put his hand on Lucifer's neck, feeling the pulse under his fingers, the struggle of this body. Lucifer got to be one thing, he got to taste and to sleep and to feel pain and pleasure. He was displeased that if Satan wanted to, he could have sex and fully enjoy it, could bleed when cut, get drunk from alcohol or high from drugs and completely lose himself as he shifted himself fully onto the earthly plane.

"Hello, brother." He enjoyed Lucifer's panic, the way those eyes widened as the mind tried to figure out what to do, how to escape. "I see you've made yourself at home."

"Michael, I –"

"Sshh," Dean said, putting a finger on that mouth, Lucifer instantly stilling. "Are you worried that I'm going to take your last words to me to heart, all about your hate of me and how you were going to rip me apart because I no longer please you?"

All he got was a swallow in return, and he smiled, allowing his fingers to move and caress that clammy cheek.

"You know what I've been doing?"

"No," was the choked reply, eyes never leaving him and he enjoyed how his brother trembled under his touch.

"I've been exterminating your little creations one by one," he said, tapping that cheek. "And thinking. You always claimed the problem was them, but really, brother, it was always, always you."

"Michael –"

"Quiet," he hissed and that mouth snapped shut. "They didn't know hate, or deceit, the want of power or evil until you skipped right on into their garden and stuck your hands in them. The taint wasn't in them, even with their free choice. It came from your fingers, from your very essence."

Lucifer was trying to shuffle over and Michael let him, watching as his brother found himself caught on the other side of the bed by the IV line still firmly implanted.

"And you've come to push my face in the mud?" Lucifer seemed emboldened a bit by distance as he struggled to figure out how to disconnect himself.

"No. I just want you to understand why I have to kill you."

That did it. It was those words and Lucifer ripped the IV line straight out, the pain barely felt as he ran towards the door with unsteady feet. It was easy to catch him, throw him up against the door hard enough that it slammed shut, arm to that throat, Lucifer wheezing in short breaths against his face.

"Running from angels, are we?"

Hands grasped at him and he was half surprised to see tears in those eyes, thoughts frantic that he would die here, that somehow he still didn't understand. Morning Star never would, he would never see past himself to care for anything else.

"What? No comments about how I'm only half-angel, an abomination that must be destroyed?" he asked, liking the choked sounds his brother made before stepping back and backhanding him, Lucifer collapsing to his knees. "You're pathetic. You lose your wings and suddenly your helpless, can't even say what you're thinking."

Michael crouched down beside him, grabbing his chin and forcing Lucifer's face up. "Tell me what you think about me right now."

"Monster."

"Very good, little brother. Tell me what else you're thinking."

Silence, Lucifer coughing, unable to free himself even as a hand tried to pry against his wrist, those cold eyes no longer defiant but beaten down and unable to meet his own.

"Let me help. You're thinking I might be right. That the problem is you. Except, little brother, you think it's because nothing loved you when really, it's because you betrayed all of us to get your way. Sound familiar?"

"If you're going to kill me, kill me."

"Not yet," Dean said, releasing his face and rising. "Not done with you yet."

The front door was opening and he slipped from sight, Lucifer's eyes wild as his arm bled from where he had pulled the line. He appreciated how his brother crawled across the floor, getting to the bed to get himself back up, fishing for his shoes that Sam had placed nearby.

There was a knock on the door, Sam entering with a container of some sort and frowning at the sight of Satan wrestling with his boots when he could barely catch a breath.

"What the hell happened?" Sam was asking, coming in, grabbing the still bleeding arm, Cas not far behind him.

"Have to leave," was the muttered response. "Can't stay here."

"Yeah, no, not happening until you can walk ten steps without stopping for a breather."

Sam had put down the container on the nightstand and was working to get the boots away from the devil's hands when Castiel spoke.

"What did he say?"

The struggle Lucifer put up immediately stilled and he dropped his face away as Sam demanded who was saying what.

"Michael. That is why he's so upset. Michael was here."

"You saw him?" Sam asked, catching Lucifer's shoulder, something like a desperate plea. "Was he okay?"

"Peachy. It was a regular 'Welcome to Earth' party."

Sam rolled his eyes. "He didn't kill you."

That same unnatural stillness as Dean watched Sam get it, understand what would be coming in the future though he raised an eyebrow that Cas was unruffled by all the events as he came over to the two.

"It does no good to run. We'll attend to your arm and then you will eat."

Whatever response to that Lucifer was cooking up was swallowed back down when he saw Sam's face, worried and terrified, and let the boots be taken away from him and helped back into the bed. As he watched Sam fix the wound and prepare a new IV stick, Dean paid more attention to his human brother. Sammy was suffering, exhausted and beaten down, the taint of what Lucifer did clinging stubbornly to him, a wave of quiet anger at the world-building each day. He curled his fingers, thinking about what damage Lucifer did to Sam alone and then have the gall to believe that the human would help him at all. It was difficult to not just snap his brother's neck in an instant and relieve all of them of this problem.

But Sam, Sam was different. Sam didn't have to stay here and suffer. He was allowed into heaven and it was becoming more tempting each day to take him. Free him from the burdens put on him and let him dream whatever he liked.

Michael opened his wings and flew away from the idea for a while but he found himself not to be averse to the idea that the best way to protect Sam was to simply kill him.