¨ Fuck! ¨

With apathetic blinking eyes I stare at the pile of rubble that once had the shape of a plate. The beautiful porcelain ... splintered into a thousand pieces. Just like that.

Yielding a reflex I kneel down, collect the coarsest body with my bare hands. The fact that the sleeve of my shirt is ripped in several places, I ignore. The splinters have been scattered in an impressive radius on the ground and it reminds me vaguely of the time in which I had taken a fancy to the puzzle ... only with the difference that the pieces were never as sharp as these pieces of broken china and I cannot remember to have ever wet a puzzle with my blood.
My fingers tremble incessantly, as if I were suffering from arthritis. Who knows, maybe I do - maybe I suffer from emotional arthritis. My palms pound like a second heart, but the realising pain is strangely muffled. My brain still seems to be paralyzed by the shock.
Is this good for me? We will see to that.

And suddenly there's another pair of hands, which embrace mine discouraging the continuation of my insane work. I do not trust to look up because I cannot meet his gaze.
Not now. I'm not able to. I'm ashamed. I'm such an idiot. Idiot Idiot Idiot.

I destroy everything. Everything. (At least this I have in common with Satan.)

¨ I - I tripped. Sorry. ¨ me gushing it too hastily out of my mouth, because I want to say something, say anything.
However, it only has the consequence that I feel even more miserable, if that's even possible. After endless back and forth I decide to risk a quick eye contact and lift my head gently. Lucifer's sea eyes remain solely on my hands what could be my luck, maybe my bad luck too.
He does not answer me. Growls instead like an animal as he examines my palm on interfaces. He fear the face when he sees that the lined meat is almost completely studded with glass slivers.

Whether he will scold in Enochian again? He does that often, if something annoys him and he does not want me to know what it is.
But today is nothing, absolutely nothing, as usual, which is why Lucifer instead of falling into his heavenly gibberish, compresses his lips to a barely visible line and pushes the air out of his nose in a single, powerful thrust.

¨ Crap. Have you always been o clumsy? ¨ he rumbles and he somehow it is a strikingly helpless remark.

I shrug, not much else comes to mind.

¨ Sometimes. The last time such things have happened to me, I had a cursed rabbit's foot in my pocket. ¨ I say toneless, ¨ But you'd have can not do better judge? You once said you'd know me in and out. ¨

Lucifer sweeps almost reverently about my wounded flesh, as if he saw his future in it.

¨ I thought so, yes. ¨ he says with a nondescript voice, ¨ However, I seem to have been mistaken. The Sam that I thought to know would not leave me for my little brother. ¨

Ouch. Today definitely too many of his verbal punches end up pitting in my stomach.
But I deserve this, right? I deserve any punishment, there is. Each one...

¨ Have I ever been the one you expected exactly? ¨

The question itself comes unexpectedly for me, though I am the one who utters it. It is a question that, my subconscious must have created some months ago, but only now it penetrates to the surface. At the worst time, of course.
Lucifer tilts his head slightly to the side.

¨ What do you mean? ¨ he asks, without ever cherishing the intention to let go of my hands.
Meanwhile, they burn like fire, and that's okay, because I'm used to fire. It has sleeping with me in the same bed for months and I loved it.

¨ You saw things in me which weren't there. Have created a mirage. ¨

Lucifer view hardens instantaneously after I roll the last letter of my tongue.

¨ We both know that's not true, Sam. You search for excuses. ¨

¨ And if I am? ¨ I reply to him in an involuntary, manic rage. "if I have no excuse that I choose Gabriel and not you?"

I resist the sake of a lump in my throat, which prevents me from breathing. I am a pathetic actor.

The devil thinks.

¨ Then I ask myself, why you had to make up your mind at all. ¨ he said. ¨ Be honest, have I done something that brought you in Gabriel's arms? ¨

This question almost tempts me to laugh or to make me cry. I could list a thousand reasons. Banal disagreements, trivia, great and small acts of the drama, which is called relationship. If I want, I should be able to find anything and everything for my justifications, it only takes a lot of imagination and an elephant memory.
But I will not lie. Not too much.

¨ No. ¨ I lick my dry lips. ¨ No, you did nothing. ¨

Really not.

¨ Why then? What have I done to deserve this, Sam? ¨

I say nothing, remain in silence.
After three minutes of this silence he snorts in impatience. Than a strange, scarred gloss flits in his eyesight.

¨ Have I ever told you why God cast me down? ¨

I swallow. My throat is parched.

¨ No. ¨ I whisper.

Though I know it just too well, because he has told me many times. Nevertheless, or perhaps because I say 'No'. It is somehow comforting to build on a subject with which one has worked to more peaceful times.

I see how Lucifer's chest rises and falls. As if there was a heart that is hammering in his chest with excitement. I want to lay my ear to it and listen to the rhythm but I can't.

¨ Because I loved him. I loved him too much. That was my mistake. ¨

¨ And have you learned from your mistake? ¨

I cannot stop the bitterness in my voice. Lucifer sighs. Sighs like a very, very old man, I notice on the edge.

¨ No. I still love you. Far too much. Therefore, it also does hurt as much. If I would let my nature run wild, I would lock you up here and have quartered Gabriel in an instant. ¨
He closes his eyes, barely a second. Presumably he imagines these acts in figuratively.
¨ But I can't. ¨ he confesses and under the gold-blond eyelashes deep blue slots blink to meet me, ¨ You would hate me for it. And I don't want you to hate me. I never wanted that ... why are you trying constantly to get me to hate you? Have you grown tired of me? ¨

With these words, he lowers his head and pulls a splinter out of my skin with his bare teeth.

A hissing sound escapes my mouth as the pain creeps up my arm like a feverish flash, at the same time an infinite relief overcomes me after the china falls clattering to the floor. Lucifer's lips are sprinkled with dry rivulets of my blood and shimmer in the electric light like ruby chains. He licks it away before he bends down deep and places reverently kisses on the wet cuts on my hands, any open wound covering with his smoking tongue.
She is hot and wet and gives me shivers down the spine. Each of his touches alleviate my burning skin, make it a blunt, phantom-like wasting away. At this moment the gesture reminds me of Jesus washing his disciples' feet. Treating them with love, kindness and wisdom ... that they did not deserve. At least not one of them. Judas.
But his grip is like stone and I am not able to squirm from it.

¨ Has he touched you, yes? ¨ it breathes against my wrist, where the blue veins stand out. Almost madly he presses his lips on my pulse, accelerating it rapidly. I feel dizzy. ¨ Did he seduced you with his charm? His unspeakable jokes? One of the tricks that I have taught him? Or did he just swallow your cock until you couldn't form sentences anymore? ¨

The mockery in his voice and the vulgar selected expression brings me back to the cold reality.

¨ Lucifer, stop. ¨ I command him and although my voice should be hard, I sound miserable. Pleadingly.

Fast Lucifer's head lifts up and his face is so damn close to mine I dare to breathe, hardly containing myself.

¨ Why should I quit? ¨ he hisses at me, a bouquet of hatred, rejection and tortured, naked envy supporting in his iris, ¨ He shall stop! He shall stop to take you away from me. ¨ His eyes thin out, a shade softer. ¨ And you shall stop to give in to his desires. ¨ he adds softly, almost tenderly.

How could I ever consider that he would try to kill me?

¨ Lucifer ... I'm sorry. ¨

"He imposes himself even more closely in my direction, over the shards. A crunch accompanies his movements. My hands are completely healed.

¨ What? ¨ he asks. Our mouths almost stripe as he speaks. ¨ For what exactly are you sorry? ¨

I am searching for the right words, the right sets - cannot find them. To be true, I think for such things there exist no right words.

¨ This here, this situation -. I never wanted it to come to that.¨ I reply evasively.

Lucifer's pupils seem to impale me.

¨ Why? ¨

He sounds lurking. Had I been sitting on a chair at this time, I would probably have slipped nervously around it.

¨ Gabriel is ... different. ¨ I mean eventually. And different can mean anything.

¨ They all are. ¨ explains Lucifer promptly and is hardly convinced. ¨ He let Dean die before your eyes, Sam. In ten thousand variants! ¨

¨ He wanted to convince me of something irreparable. ¨ I admit. ¨ And you almost beat Dean to death. You wanted to break every bone in his body - with my own hands !¨

Lucifer's eyes turned angry, as if I would roll up a trifle over the past five years.
¨ Do you still think of this, every time you see me? ¨ he says, and there is actually a hint of insult in his tone, ¨ How can you forgive Gabriel and be so unforgiving with me? Is it because I'm the devil? Is it that? ¨

Now he is really indignant. Furious. He believes that I prefer his brother because he's still an archangel in heaven.
I look at him. Thoughtful. Maybe even a little scared (I do not know exactly, because there is no mirror in which I can look at myself).

¨ I'm not resentful. ¨ I answer him then and I have to pay close attention to the fact that my voice does not overturn. I don't need to lose control.
But it's hard, it's damn hard.

¨ You're not? ¨

¨ No. ¨

¨ But I am. ¨

Our noses touch, key in succession. My lower lip jitters. Now I see the fire, the hell Lucifer has brought with him out of the cage blazes in his eyes.
It's beautiful. Spookily beautiful. I'll never see it again, never again, never again -

¨ And if you actually think I would give you up so easily, then you were bitterly wrong. I lost everything I held dear once. That won't happen to me for a second time. I'd rather die than - ! ¨

¨ YES, THAT'S IT! ¨ it bursts out of me, sinking together like an inflatable doll. ¨ That's just it ... ¨ I repeat weakly.

Dead. Dead.

Then I suddenly break down into tears.

I cry, because Lucifer holds my aufgeritzten of splinters in his hands and our eyes meet while we sit on our knees. I cry, because I realize that this could be the last time that he ever touches me or talk to each other openly.
I cry because the OVER is suddenly so tangible in the air, that I want to grab it by the throat and choke it. Choking, gagging, until it kicked the bucket and then I no longer have to decide to go because there is no OVER anymore because I killed OVER.

For a short time only my own, staccato sobs echo in the room, I'm sorry. I'm-sob-so-sniff-I'm so sorry- sometimes in between muttering. It is grueling, unfair, embarrassing and I want to fucking stop it, but I can not. I just can not ...

Lucifer is paralyzed.
His cobalt eyes are like bright spotlight on me. In them, confusion and horror mix to an accusing sud. I am incredibly sick. The fact that an uncontrollable tremor has captured my body does not make it better, but worse. I'm so incurably sick ...

¨ Sam? ¨ I hear him ask, but somehow his voice seems far away, ¨ Hey, Sammy? Sammy? ¨
His dominated baritone has given an abundance of insistent concern. A pinch of serious fear that dominates especially in the last Sammy.
Nevertheless, it is and remains the voice that I love the most.
The voice I hear in my sleep, looking in my dreams. The voice that calmed me in hell, while around us eternal flame stoves surged and chopped limbs crackling in the middle and the smell of death and decay was everywhere. This voice. God forgive me, but there is no other voice, no other man, no other angel whom I can love as your fallen son.

And ... that's why I have to finish it. Better too early than too late. Even if it kills me.

For what is worse than one's own suffering? To see the ones suffer you love the most.

I do not know how long he lets me cry. I do not know when exactly his arms cross around my neck and his hands come off, stroking my back. I do not even know when he starts to seal my lips with his.

But I know that it does not feel uncomfortable. I know the sweet smell of his breath, the collection of his mouth. The way he puts his whole, celestial-infernal existence in his touches. In his body, his hands, his kisses. His bloodlust. His love.

And these kisses are rough and wild and taste like fire, rage and sorrow, mixed with the salt of my tears. Unlike Gabriel. No comparison. One difference that separates dimensions from each other.
I want to defend myself, want to push him away from me, but within the blink of an eye his fingers drive restlessly through my hair, pulling on individual strands, pressing me insurmountably to him. Possessively closer to the hot mouth, I've sworn never to kiss again a few days ago.
But my oath definitely seems to be ignored by the devil, because before I can organize my thoughts, his forked tongue slides provocatively over my lips, bites with his teeth playfully into the soft cushion and at least now I realize that I have to get up immediately .
If not, I'm lost for the night - in more than one way. Then all I have planned and done is for nothing.

¨ I-I have to go now. ¨ I gasp again as soon as he gives me oxygen and curse the stuttering at the beginning of my sentence.

Still trembling with every fiber I turn around without another word, get up and stumble drunkenly out of the kitchen, heading towards the exit. I feel Lucifer staring after me. His scorching gaze pins like sharpened needles in my back and I would probably fallen halfway (again), if I didn't support me instinctively with one hand on the wall. The fact that I have frequently supported me somewhere today, I just notice on the edge of my rotating consciousness, a file that is stuffed without delay into the appropriate drawer and slammed with pleasure.

I don't get far.
Not because of Lucifer, who jappears behind me several moments later and clasps my wrist, but because of the dizziness that spills over my nerve endings with every second stronger rotating my perception in flashing circles.
The metallic smell of blood on my hands claws in my nose. The world is a place of hiding darkness. The gloomy outlines of the hall. Shadows on the walls that make me laugh silently.
Too much. It's too much ...

. ¨ Listen, you became weak ¨ I hear. ¨ That's okay, all - all men are weak when angels or demons appear on the scene. It is in their nature to succumb to the temptation. Eve and the forbidden fruit allowed your existence and that of your ancestors only - ¨

¨ - Temptation played no role in this. ¨ I groan in mental distance and now I can feel the bones in my legs are wax and how gravity cheats on me.

¨ What then? ¨ asks Lucifer. ¨ What then? ¨.

¨ I - ¨

I swallow the rest in a pained groan as migraine floods through my skull like a wrecking ball and my view is outshone by blinding bright light. Like a knocked out boxer who is hanging in the ropes, my body claps completely against the wall. The pastel wallpaper in the back I tumble down like a wet sack, the floor is suddenly like slush, cold and sticky and stubborn.

A second later Lucifer's face floats in front of mine. He says something, his lips move, confusion and fear share space in his eyes. But I am not able to appease him, to tell him that everything is alright and he must have no fear, because it's not. I'm not alright. My concern is not good. And I kept it hidden so well ...
More and more of my surroundings atomize into tiny dots of red and black and other colors, for which there are no names, just horrified amazement.
Damn it. Damn damn damn!
The doctor warned me against such attacks, but he has not said that they would occur immediately after the first treatment. Son of a bitch, like Dean would have said. Yes, son of a bitch ...

The last thought doing the rounds in my brain before I drifting into a saving, blissful unconsciousness, is regret. The regret, not having divulged what I wanted to avoid at all costs.
The regret for not leaving earlier to spare him this spectacle.

And the simple regret, not to have told Lucifer the truth from the beginning.
The whole truth.