Later that night, after everyone else had retreated to their rooms to rest, Lucifer paced back and forth quietly across the floor of the main room. He was making an effort to keep his steps light as possible, so not to wake the ones who were sleeping; Sam, Dean, Adam and Gabriel were all resting in their various, separate rooms, while Castiel and Jack were… well, actually Lucifer didn't really know where they were. A part of him itched to have some kind of knowledge as to where his own son was, but at the same time, he had to shake that off. He had to get used to it. Jack was fine with Castiel; Lucifer trusted his brother, at least, to be the father to Jack that Lucifer just… couldn't be. He didn't know how to be a dad. Hell, he'd already failed once.
The Devil narrowed his eyes for a moment, looking toward the stairs. Rowena and Crowley should be arriving soon, according to Gabriel at least. As much as Lucifer would welcome a rest right about then, he was staying awake so that he could greet them, explain the plan, and get them to sleep, as well. Adam had pretty much forced everyone to rest - at least those who seemed like they needed it. Well - Gabriel didn't need to be forced. His brother could hardly keep his eyes open when Lucifer had gone in there to wake him, so Lucifer had just let him go back to sleep. Sam and Dean, though, Adam all but locked them in their rooms.
The demon, he knew, was hoping to connect with Michael through their dreams again. Lucifer hoped he could, too. Maybe he could get his older brother to wake up faster, like seriously.
The only one Adam hadn't managed to force to sleep was Lucifer; there wasn't really much of anything the demon could force him to do. Lucifer had proved over and over again that, yes, he could kick Adam's ass to the ground effortlessly, and that hadn't changed even with the revelation that his best frenemy was half-angel now, as well. Sure, Adam had tried his best to convince Lucifer to sleep after realizing he couldn't force him, but the Devil had made a compelling argument; no, and fuck you, and after cursing him out, the demon had eventually retreated back to his own room, and Lucifer was left awake and alone in the bunker.
He remembered a time where he'd actively try and use this against the Winchesters; like it was some kind of position of power, having access to every part of the bunker. He could easily kill Sam and Dean in their sleep if he was so compelled, and a long time ago, he would have been. It was kind of funny how much things changed, though, because as Lucifer paced the length of the room, he felt… somewhat numb to the thought. He didn't want to hurt the Winchesters. The revelation surprised him, even after all this time - he wasn't sure he had reached the point where he'd be all dewy-eyed and sweet with them, but at least for the time being, they just… weren't on his hit list. They weren't his enemy. They hadn't been for a long time.
… truthfully enough, they were only his enemies because that's what Chuck had wanted. That still left Lucifer seething. But, like he was so used to doing now, he pushed it down and locked it away somewhere deep in his own chest where it would eat at him from the inside out and, eventually, would be his ultimate unraveling. What a very… human thing to do.
He understood why they did it, though. To keep some kind of sanity. Some form of self-respect..
Lucifer sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and pausing his pacing to lean against one of the tables instead. He was tired - just not in the way everyone else was. No, this exhaustion was more emotional than anything, and it weighed down on him harder than any other type of fatigue possibly could. This whole situation was draining, emotionally and physically, and Lucifer found it harder and harder to keep himself moving throughout the whole ordeal. Chuck's escape had nearly been a breaking point - and to be completely honest, it was actually still somewhat in effect. It was like his emotions couldn't decide between anger, fear, desperation and just an all-around sense of sadness that made him feel like absolute shit and had him wanting to just crawl into a hole, cover himself up and not move until it was all over.
You'd think that proving himself right would be more satisfying than this. Oh, hey, look, God was the villain all along! Not me! I was right! Fuck you, Winchesters! But, no. No, actually, Lucifer was really beginning to hate the fact that he was right. And wishing he wasn't. Everything was so much easier when he was the villain, wasn't it? He didn't have to worry about saving the world, he didn't have to worry about other people dying, he didn't have to worry about whether he would win or not. It was always his own life on the line and nobody else's, and he was fine with that. If he won, he lived, great. If he lost, he died, also great. It wasn't like he had anything to live for, did he? His entire existence had just been based around God anyway.
Nothing had changed on that particular front, except now Lucifer was just… tired.
Tired of playing his Father's game. He'd gone along with it for so long, thinking that he could eventually find a way to really break free of the puppetmaster's strings and show everyone else the truth about God once and for all. And he'd played along so long, played the villain for so long, that trying to do anything else was just exhausting. Suddenly, he had other people's safety to worry about. Suddenly, he was working alongside the Winchesters, civilly, and actually beginning to like it. Suddenly, he was worried about losing. Because if he lost, they lost. And Lucifer really didn't want them to lose. They didn't deserve to lose.
These humans, these people - the creations God was supposed to adore, the ones he thought were his favorites way back when… Lucifer had been telling the truth when he told Adam that he'd known the game was rigged from the jump. But he hadn't realized that Chuck genuinely didn't care for humanity until it was too late. He'd always known the angels were just tools. It had taken him a little while to see that the humans weren't exactly better off.
They were innocent, most of them, Lucifer was beginning to see. Even the Winchesters. So suddenly, not only was he on their side, but suddenly, he wanted them to win. With every fiber of his being, he wanted them to win. And it wasn't just because they were facing off against Chuck anymore; it was because the way he was playing all of them was just ridiculous, even Sam and Dean, and Lucifer was just done with it. Chuck, his 'story', his villains, his manipulation.
The Devil scowled a little, rubbing his forehead, then paused, blinked, and turned.
Coming face to face with Crowley was, admittedly, what he was already expecting before he'd turned around - he could feel the demon's power from a mile away, and he wasn't at all oblivious to what was going on inside of the bunker right then, already on high alert - but, of course, he could have done without having to face Crowley right then. He already felt like shit, but… this is why he had stayed up, so he had to deal with the demon and his mother for now. Maybe he could pull an Adam and send them off to sleep or something. "Welcome back."
"Mm, charmed." Crowley rolled his eyes and glanced back over his shoulder for a second as the door opened - presumably Rowena, entering, now - and Lucifer shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back, crossing one of his legs over the other and staring back at the demon calmly when he turned back to face him. "Squirrel and Moose are off in dreamland, I presume."
"Sleeping like babies," Lucifer replied simply, looking back over at Rowena as she entered, carrying a pile of books and a few bags on her shoulders. Crowley turned, once again, toward his mother - then simply raised a hand and snapped his fingers, teleporting the books and the bags onto the tables instead. Rowena said nothing, but she offered her son a grateful look and gave Lucifer a slight nod as she walked over to one of the tables, sifting through for something in particular. "There's no need to disturb them, right?"
"Oh, no. For the time being, they're quite irrelevant. Well- Sam would be useful," Crowley huffed out a sigh, looking back over at the Devil. "But I'm sure we'll get by without him, either way." He turned away and headed over to where Rowena was, picking up one of the bags to dump it out over the table; Lucifer snapped his fingers before the demon could do so, the bag disappearing from Crowley's hands and the contents laid out across the table in barely more than a second. He couldn't risk the noise waking up the Winchesters and Adam - mostly because then he'd have a very grumpy Adam Milligan on his hands, and even if he could take Adam in a fight any day, nobody wanted to deal with him while he was tired-pissed, not even Lucifer.
Crowley spared him an irritated look, but he turned back to what he was doing easily enough.
"Any word from Amara yet?" Rowena flicked her gaze over to Lucifer, and the Devil paused, just for a second, his mouth twisting into a frown as his mind flashed back to his aunt. Honestly, in the chaos, he had somewhat forgotten about her. She hadn't returned from wherever Chuck had taken her off to, though, and while a part of Lucifer was tempted to go looking for her just to make sure she was okay, he figured it might be best to wait it out first. They needed to stick together for the most part now, and Chuck wasn't powerful enough to seriously hurt Amara - especially not now, after he had likely used up all his energy in the fight.
"No. She and Daddy-o are probably wrecking part of the universe fighting right now as we speak," Lucifer remarked, frowning a little as he made his way over to them now. "Why?" He questioned carefully, leaning sideways against the table and glancing down at the items spread across it. A few hex bags, some cloths and other various ingredients for spells and such…
"I was hoping she could identify this." Rowena turned back to one of the other bags, pulling it open and pulling out the sword. It was still stained with Dean's blood, and long dried by now. The entire thing was pure gold, from the handle to the blade itself; the handle, stained with bloody fingerprints, twisted and coiled up the base of the sword, an intricate design that reminded Lucifer of only one place in particular; The sword practically radiated Heaven vibes, but even then, staring at it now, he couldn't recognize it. It wasn't anything he'd ever seen. Maybe similar, in some respects, but otherwise… "It is from Heaven, isn't it?"
"Definitely looks like it," Lucifer agreed, watching Rowena walk over to place the blade down on the table. The Devil stared at it, but he didn't move to touch it, his eyes narrowing faintly. "But it's nothing I've ever seen before, for sure. Then again, I'm sure Heaven got a few upgrades even after I took the swan dive, so someone else might recognize it. Michael, maybe, when he wakes up." He frowned a little, looking back toward the hallway, before he looked back to Rowena.
"Perhaps," Rowena conceded, but she didn't seem too happy. "It might have something to do with him being unconscious, however." At this, Lucifer's shoulders tensed slightly, and Rowena continued grimly, "I can't be sure, though. Until we can identify the sword, the basic function of it…" She shook her head, and Lucifer exhaled sharply, shutting his eyes. "I could be wrong, of course," the witch added, "but it's always good to be cautious."
"Yeah, it is," Lucifer sighed, twisting his hands slightly in his pockets. Well, explaining this to Adam should be fucking great, as if the demon didn't have enough on his plate regarding Michael. Once again, his own feelings on the situation were brushed aside; Didn't matter that the idea of his brother being in deeper trouble than he knew made his chest tighten up, the idea of him being hurt on a deeper level than Lucifer understood making his blood boil, the need to find Chuck and destroy him just on the possibility that he had done something to Michael that Lucifer might not be able to fix - no, it didn't matter. He'd spent so long doing nothing but focusing on himself, on how he felt and how much he was hurting and to be completely honest, the Devil was just about as done with himself as he was with his Father.
He tugged lightly at the insides of his pockets and closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and shaking his head a little. Finally, though, there was just no amount of pushing and shoving that could keep it all down; He could feel his walls cracking at the edges, on the verge of crumbling, and he wasn't going to break in front of Crowley and Rowena. He ran his tongue over his lips - though it did absolutely nothing, as his mouth had gone completely dry by then - and cleared his throat, turning away. "Well, you guys have fun with your witchy hoodoo stuff." He spun around without waiting for a response, his casual expression cracking as he headed for the library. It was the best place to be right then - he didn't want to take a room in the bunker, even though there were several empty ones to occupy. He didn't have any intentions of sleeping, anyway, he just needed a moment alone to pull himself together again.
Once inside, he sank back against one of the bookshelves, closed his eyes, and just breathed.
He should have never let Chuck get away. He shouldn't have left Michael alone. He should have healed Dean, despite the hunter's objections. He shouldn't have let his brother handle it himself. Then Michael would be awake - maybe? Fuck, Lucifer didn't even know at this point. He just knew that his oldest brother was unconscious, his aunt was gone, his Father was insane, and here he was, scrambling to pick up the pieces and he didn't even know why. Why he cared so much now, why he was struggling so hard, why it was so, so difficult for him to keep himself together through all of this. Every passing second felt like the weight on his shoulders was just getting heavier and heavier, so much responsibility and confusion and all of these things to plan for, every situation to consider, every shattered, broken piece to pick up with his bare hands, and he was just cutting himself more and more in the process, growing more frantic.
And right then, he was suffocating in those pieces. They were stuck in his throat, his chest, his lungs, every breath in cutting him up even more from the inside out. He couldn't breathe - he didn't need to breathe, but just the fact that he couldn't sent off warning bells and, thus, made him lightheaded, weak with panic, the swirling ocean of confusion and desperation and helplessness that he had worked so hard to build a dam around was breaking free at last. There was just too much - too much to account for, too much to do, and so little time to do it.
The Devil watched his own hands begin to tremble, felt his legs going numb, watched the room spin and spiral around him in dizzying bursts that made him feel like he was spiraling, and he knew what it was immediately; It was a panic attack. He wasn't unfamiliar with the concept. But he was unfamiliar with having them when there weren't any bars closing around him, when there wasn't any fire flickering at the corners of his vision, the only light he could see in the darkness. He was unfamiliar with having panic attacks when there were other people nearby - not in the same room, but nearby. He was unfamiliar with panicking when there was nothing to panic about - but then again, there had to be something, otherwise he wouldn't be panicking.
Lucifer shook his head a little at himself, rubbing his hands together slightly in a half-hearted attempt to ease the tremors. Calming himself down was never an easy feat, but it never quite stopped him from trying. It was kind of funny - he'd never actually felt any positive emotions, for sure, but he also never used to feel negativity even to his extent. At least, not this kind of negativity. Anger and betrayal and the occasional sadness, he could cope with. But this anxiety, this fear, this confusion and hopelessness - was there a return address? He didn't want it.
He let his head fall back against the bookshelf behind him, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. He cracked his mouth open slightly, sucking in a deep breath and frowning at the scents that flickered to life against his tongue in the process. He'd always thought the air in the bunker was… sharp, in a way, cold and stabbing, but it was welcome right then, as the icy feeling scraping against his throat took his mind off of the glass that he felt was still lodged there. Pulling his thoughts to a standstill, he shut his eyes and breathed in again.
There we go. Easy, in and out, and… and someone was in the library.
He snapped his mouth shut, swallowed, and composed himself in one breath, blinking his eyes open and turning to look. He knew who it was before he'd even had the chance to turn his head completely, to be honest - there was a sense of familiarity in the room, in a strange but understanding way he had never felt around anyone else. Just one person. And, aside from that, the tension in the room had suddenly thickened further, the panic in the air intensifying, spiraling into an endless pit of distrust and wariness, the same emotions he saw reflected in the hazel eyes of his true vessel Sam Winchester when their gazes met.
Lucifer tucked his hands into his pockets again, mostly to hide the way his fingers were still trembling ever so slightly. Judging by the way Sam's hands flicked downwards, the Devil figured he might have seen anyway, but the hunter said nothing for a while, just shifted back and forth on his feet in the doorway, as if uncertain as to whether or not he should enter - or whether or not he was allowed to. Lucifer genuinely couldn't tell - but he knew Sam wasn't going to be making the first move or putting in the first word, so he added the extra weight to his own shoulders, carrying the burden of trying to figure out what to say first, instead.
There was nothing easy about talking to Sam, that was for sure. Lucifer could hardly look at the man at this point - because when he did, all he saw was his past mistakes, the things his Father had made him do. But even worse were the things he had done on his own accord, the things he enjoyed doing. Breaking free of his Father's strings allowed him a little more understanding, a little more sympathy, for certain - but even he couldn't hand all the blame over to Chuck. There were just too many things he'd done at this point for them all to be his Father's fault - some things had to be his own, and he was, to be honest, done trying to even it out anyway.
"Adam's gonna kick your ass," the Devil sighed, running his tongue over his lips again and feeling a small bit of relief when he was finally able to wet them a little - the dryness was a little more than uncomfortable. Sam, to Lucifer's surprise, actually huffed out a laugh at that, the sound seeming to stick in his throat for a good few seconds before it escaped. He didn't meet Lucifer's gaze again, slowly flicking his eyes around the library instead, and Lucifer brought his gaze back to the floor in response, somewhat relieved that the hunter wasn't looking at him - that just made it easier not to have to look back at him in response. "Can't sleep?"
"No, not really." Sam rubbed the back of his neck, tousling his own hair a little bit in the process. Lucifer spared a glance up, not moving an inch, as the hunter finally ventured a little further into the room, somewhat reluctantly in his approach; But he didn't move toward Lucifer, simply headed around to another set of bookshelves, still refusing to look the Devil's way. "Too much on my mind, I guess," the hunter added distractedly, looking through the books.
Lucifer's mouth twitched slightly, staying silent for a while. He understood that, especially now - there were too many thoughts in his head, too many emotions swirling around inside of him. He didn't think he'd ever be able to sleep if he had to, not now. Then again, soon enough, he wouldn't have much of a choice… he shook his head, stifling those thoughts. "How's Dean?"
Sam paused, glancing over at him, and he hesitated a little bit before turning away once more. "He's fine. Sleeping," the hunter replied simply, pulling a book off of the shelf. Lucifer flicked his gaze toward it, only briefly, to read the title - 'The Art of War', an interesting choice - before he looked back down. His hands were still shaking, the only sign of his ever-present anxiety, and one he could keep hidden rather easily. It wasn't a lie if nobody talked about it, if nobody asked, he didn't have to answer. Loopholes to the whole honesty thing - something Lucifer had forgotten in the long run, but something he was trying to uphold now, as if maybe it could take away from the lies he'd spun before. The Devil pressed his lips together and burrowed his hands deeper into his pockets, closing his eyes and trying to slow his thoughts down again.
He glanced up when Sam moved again, the hunter walking over to sit down at one of the tables and opening the book in front of him. His shoulders were tense, his abnormally long legs bouncing restlessly even as he sat down, fingers twitching against the pages and tapping against the table - every sign pointed to uneasiness, nervous, and Lucifer knew why, of course - he was sitting in a room with his worst nightmare, too polite to ask him to leave, or to leave himself, but too scared to completely relax. Lucifer sucked in a breath through his teeth and looked away again, the soft tremors creeping up his arms, toward his shoulders.
The guilt was yet another thing he could do without - and would rather do without.
He was trying to make it right, even though he wasn't sure why. Trying to build everyone up - pep talks for Adam, encouragement for Michael, trying to open up to Castiel and letting his guard down completely around Gabriel. Jack, he was still at a loss on what to do there, at the moment he was just trying to stay out of the kid's way and give him time with the only ones who had actually been like fathers to him in the first place. And then there was Sam - Sam who he wanted to talk to, was desperate to talk to, but when it came to the hunter, no words came.
Lucifer chewed on the inside of his cheek and clenched his fists tight. Trying to stop the shaking just made it worse, so he simply stood there, half-propped up against the bookshelf, too exhausted to do anything but stare at the floor and let himself stew in his own self-loathing for a moment, the helplessness capturing him in a dizzying, endless cycle of bitterness that he wasn't sure he could break free of - nor one he was sure he wanted to break free of. Unconsciously, his foot twitched once against the ground, and then began a slow, steady, quiet rhythm of tapping.
It was kind of calming, actually.
Unfortunately, that's when Sam began to notice. If Lucifer had known the hunter was capable of looking at him - much less studying him, as he was doing now - he would have forced himself to stand still, and if he couldn't, he would have just left. But Sam was watching his every movement, every twitch and tap and every subtle shift in his expressions. So when the Devil looked up, and saw Sam's gaze so intently fixed on him, a mixture of confusion and uncertainty, Lucifer jumped, stiffened, and went completely still all at once.
Sam's face flushed slightly, looking away again, a sheepish look replacing the expression that had previously been there. Lucifer took a deep breath, rubbing his fingers together with both hands and struggling to calm the shaking again, though it had receded once more to his fingers, unnoticeable while his hands were still in his pockets. "Sorry, I just…" Sam trailed off, mouth twisting sharply, and the Devil grimaced and glanced back up at him, silent. "... are you okay?"
Boy, that was a question Lucifer was used to. From Michael, at least - and he always found a way to avoid answering it with one-hundred percent complete honesty - and when Gabriel asked, on the rare occasion that he did ask, Lucifer would allow some things to slip. Only a fraction of what was troubling him, and only things Gabriel would understand. He wasn't going to dump a load of crap on his brothers, he wasn't going to talk about his problems when they all had much bigger things to worry about. So Luci felt bad, boohoo. He was done making it all about him, anyway. Let someone else have the spotlight for a change. Let them be vulnerable. He was just too tired at this point.
Lucifer blinked, snapping out of his thoughts long enough to realize he hadn't answered the hunter yet, and he half-opened his mouth to respond for just a second before he shut it again, also realizing he hadn't quite thought of a response that would be truthful enough to satisfy him and then a way to change the subject before he could ask any further questions. He wanted to say yes, he wanted to say he was fine, he wanted to say even he wasn't sure if he was okay but the truth was that those were all lies because he knew for a fact that he wasn't okay, he wasn't fine, but saying no wasn't an option here and he wasn't going to flat-out lie to the hunter's face after everything he'd already done. So he opened his mouth to say "okay as I can be considering the circumstances", which wasn't a total lie, but…
But… well, that wasn't what came out when his mouth opened, and he wasn't sure how to deal with what did. "I'm…" The words caught in his throat, he heard them leaving, but he didn't feel himself saying them, and it was the oddest thing ever. "... sorry."
It wasn't long after the last word left his lips that the Devil stiffened, pupils shrinking slightly as he stared at Sam. His throat clenched up, like someone had just wrapped their fingers around it and started squeezing with everything they had. Unable to breathe and yet not needing to breathe, he just looked at the hunter as the tremors in his fingers burst back to life in his hands, spreading up and up and going even further than just his shoulders now. They spread down across his spine, making Lucifer shiver, and he finally took his eyes off of Sam's shocked face to look back down again, lips parting as if to speak again, but nothing would come out now.
He was… confused. He'd just apologized, and he was confused. Confused as to why he suddenly felt like he was about to explode, like a volcano about to erupt, like those two words had been his complete undoing and he was right there, right there on the edge. A lump formed in his throat, rising higher and higher, pushing a familiar warmth to his eyes that just made him panic even further, because yes, this was happening now, and he couldn't stop it.
Like everything else, he couldn't stop it.
Lucifer's entire body was shaking, but he was silent as he slowly slid down to the floor, his back pressed even harder against the bookshelf and his hands never leaving his pockets. His legs felt numb, and he hardly even felt his knees pressing against his chest as he doubled over, screwing his eyes shut and just trying to regulate his breathing, to get his shaking back to normal. The worst part about this panic was that he was completely aware of it; He knew what was happening, he knew it was his own anxiety being used against him, the flames that had been simmering finally bursting to life and burning him from the inside out. He knew what it was, but even then, as he sat there, trembling, tears brewing up behind his eyelids, he couldn't stop. He was weak, he was damaged, he was tired and he was broken…
And Sam Winchester was sitting just a few feet away, helpless to do anything but watch as the Devil finally cracked, too tired, even now, to hold himself together any longer.
"Everything I did," he groaned, his voice shaking even worse than his body was as he ducked his head, pressing his mouth against his trembling knees and keeping his eyes shut. "There's just no way I can fix it all in time," he whispered to himself, almost forgetting that Sam was there. "There's no way I can fix what he's done- what I've done- what he's doing, I just- I can't- I…" The tears in his eyes pushed harder, desperate to escape, but he was just as desperate to hold them in as long as he could. It was almost a game now, see how long Lucifer could bottle everything up before he spontaneously combusted. "It's not fair," he mumbled, regaining some composure, just enough, to bring some confidence back to his voice. At least this, he was confident in; None of this, in any way, shape, or form, was fair. To anyone. "It's not fair."
"... I know." Sam's voice was quieter, softer than Lucifer would have expected toward him of all people. It just made Lucifer feel even worse, to be honest, but he wasn't going to say that. "I know it's not. None of this is…" The hunter huffed out a laugh, though there was no humor in his tone nor the conversation. The Devil shook his head and pulled one hand out of his pocket, still shaking as he rubbed his arm across his eyes, scrubbing hard to wipe the tears away.
"I hate him. I hate him so much-" Lucifer's voice broke, cracking on the last word, despite his best attempts to keep himself steady. "For everything he's doing- everything he's done and it's not fair- he doesn't get to be the villain- he doesn't get to make me the villain and then-" He stopped, sucking in a gasp, the tears returning, finally forcing him to open his eyes, as if there were too many brewing behind his eyelids for him to be able to keep them anymore. "I don't understand why he's doing this," he choked out, cringing back slightly at the feeling of the tears escaping, coursing down across his face on both sides. He rubbed them away as they fell. "It was so much easier when I could pretend he was as righteous as he acted, it was so much easier when I didn't care- why did he- why-" He let his breath out in a sharp huff, almost a sob but not quite getting there just yet. "Why did he make me like this?"
"Why did he make any of us like this?" Sam offered a helpless shrug, looking just as lost as Lucifer felt. But there was something else on the hunter's face now, flickering through his eyes, a little bit of sympathy he had been lacking before. Lucifer hated that, actually - he didn't want Sam to sympathize with him. Hell, a part of him wanted the hunter to tell him Chuck didn't make him into a villain, that he was the villain all along, that he did this all to himself - because even that would be better than accepting that he was only made to be miserable and evil and lonely, only made to break everything he touched, only made to create trouble and problems and… "It's not," the hunter added, slightly hesitant, "it's not fair. Especially what he did to you."
Lucifer choked out a laugh at that, more tears rising to his eyes.
"It was hard to understand at first. Hard to- to accept it, I guess." Sam looked down for a moment, his expression shifting slightly as he put the book down on the table and sat back. "But I know you didn't… you didn't ask for any of this. You didn't ask to be this… you, and- hell, maybe none of us even know you at all." His mouth twisted, flicking his gaze back up to Lucifer. "Does that make sense?"
Lucifer shook his head a little, exhaustion finally replacing the pain exploding in his chest, like fireworks, jarring him with each burst and flash. Instead of pretty lights and colors, though, it was just agony. So he was relieved when, finally, he was feeling tired again. Numb and tired, finally able to push down the swirling mess of guilt and pain that had been building up inside of him ever since he'd woken up in the Empty. "Nothing makes sense," he breathed out, wiping the tears away again, a little harsher this time, before tucking his hands into his pockets. "Not anymore." He looked down again, eyes flickering from one thing to the other, anxiously bouncing his gaze around now that he was unable to look Sam in the face once again.
"Yeah. But- hey," Sam raised his voice, just a bit, and Lucifer spared a glance back up at him, holding the hunter's gaze as their eyes met, and Sam leaned forward a little bit. "It doesn't have to. Whatever happened back then, it doesn't-"
"Don't say it doesn't matter," Lucifer interrupted tiredly, blue eyes dulling just a little bit more as he stared at the hunter. "Please."
Sam only fell silent for a few seconds before he sat back again, looking down at his hands, and his mouth twisted into a grimace as he sighed, cleared his throat, and nodded. "It does matter. You're right. I mean, there's still things- things that happened. Hell, the Cage, the… all of it. But-"
"It's more than just the Cage, Sam," Lucifer cut in desperately, the pain throbbing at his chest again, but it was easier to stifle now than it was, as if the brief release - however small it might have been - was enough to satisfy it for the time being. "I- hell, the Cage- I didn't even do anything in there. The Cage was probably the one place I didn't have to do anything to you-" He stopped, swallowed, and cut himself off, looking away from Sam before he could see the slight shift in his expression. "It's more than…"
"You…" Sam spoke up, slowly, as the Devil trailed off, and Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a huff. "... you didn't torture me? In the Cage?"
Lucifer stayed silent for a while, looking down. That was something he'd never admitted to the hunter, for many reasons; Hell, he didn't even admit it to Adam or Michael, they had figured it out themselves after only a little while in the Cage. At least, his brother did - Adam took a little longer to figure it out than Michael had, probably sometime after Lucifer had been freed… the Devil shook his head a little, sighing. He had gone on to let Sam think he had tortured him way back when, never finding the right moment to bring it up and never really wanting to admit that, even back then, he had held some form of the weakness he felt now. Even to himself. Hell, for a while there, he had almost managed to delude himself into believing he had tortured Sam then. How fucked up was that?
"No, I… the Cage was designed to punish me, not just imprison me. Dad figured… I guess he figured the best way to do that would be to show me what it was like to feel like a human, to have all my twisted little thoughts and fears used against me." He clenched his fists, his hands shaking a little harder now, while Sam just stared. "He wanted to show me what it was like to have nightmares. That's what the Cage does, Sam. It takes what you're scared of and turns it against you. You know… like a fear landscape, but instead of helping you get over your fears, it… uses them to break you down."
Sam sank back slightly in the chair, staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion written across his face. Lucifer just fell silent, struggling to keep his gaze fixed on the hunter. But he didn't move his gaze, and Sam wasn't showing any signs of looking away anytime soon. Finally, though, he did speak again, quiet and horrified. "I'm so sorry."
"Wha-?" Lucifer broke off slightly, not even able to utter the whole word, too stunned to even spit that out. So he just stared, disbelief replacing the confusion.
"All this time." Sam shook his head slightly, running his fingers through his hair sharply and staring at the Devil with a frown, while Lucifer just stared, confused. "Why didn't you say anything? I mean- hell, wouldn't have believed you anyway," he muttered, almost to himself, as he sat back again, and Lucifer allowed a dry smile to appear on his face, looking down again. Sure, he'd let Sam believe that was one of the reasons he hadn't told him, though that was far from the truth in any case. He hadn't told him because he was scared Sam would believe him.
"That's not the point," the Devil insisted after a moment, taking a deep breath. "I still did all those things, I still- I still fucked up beyond repair and I can't even figure out how to begin fixing it."
"But you want to fix it," Sam pointed out quietly, with barely a few second's hesitation, and Lucifer closed his eyes for a moment, not sure why he'd been expecting any less from the hunter. "That's a start, isn't it? You've still got time. Especially after we take care of Chuck."
At that, Lucifer blinked his eyes open and stared at him, then slowly flicked his gaze back down, his hands twisting slightly into his pockets. Instead of responding, he just hesitated, opening and closing his mouth, wanting to respond but not wanting to say what he knew he should say to that. So instead of telling the truth, and instead of telling a lie, Lucifer just took a deep breath, and heaved himself back to his feet, grimacing slightly as he did so. "Amara's been gone for too long. I'm gonna see if I can track her. Make sure she's not bleeding in a ditch somewhere."
"Okay." Sam paused, and seemed to hesitate before he added, "... be careful."
Lucifer just stared at him for a moment in complete, utter silence before looking away again, spreading his wings, and taking off.