AN: I know, I know, I'm late. I'm so late. If you knew where I lived, you'd stage a protest until a policeman arrested you for stalking, assault, and just general creepiness. I didn't mean to hold it off for so long, but somehow it just . . . happened. I'll try to do better. Give me another chance, baby. I can still change. It's me, not you.

I'm lying. It's you. It's all you.

(Don't kill me. I've got mad ninja skillz and I know how to use them. Kind of.)

Disclaimer: If I own Supernatural, then you've got a beachfront property to sell me. A beachfront property in the North Pole. With Santa as my butler and Mrs. Claus as my person maid-slash-professional assassin.

Boy, if I owned Supernatural, you might just have yourself a deal.

The quote disguising itself as the infamous Next-Up is owned by crazy-super-awesome genius Dr. Seuss.

Summary: There's no such thing as coincidence.

Light.

Pure, brilliant, unadulterated light. He could feel the cracks in the Cage. The fires that burned him from the inside out were flickering, almost as if being doused.

He was falling.

And then he was breaking, coming apart upon the ground even as he felt more alive than ever before, singed feathers drifting down from the sky to surround him.

Darkness.

Consciousness.

He opened his eyes.

A face in his line of sight, expression concerned. "Hey, you okay?"

"Where am I?" he rasped.

"My couch."

"What?"

"You're on my couch."

"How . . . ? Why? I was . . . I am free of the Cage?"

"Cage?" The kid seemed surprised. "Dude, what are you talking about?"

He struggled to sit up, hissing as his unseen fractured wings moved.

"Hey, careful. You're hurt pretty bad."

Why would you care? "I don't understand."

"You," he pronounced with exaggerated slowness. "Hurt. Ouch."

He grimaced. "Very amusing."

"I know," the kid said without batting an eyelash. "What's your name?"

He opened his mouth, then drew a blank. He sent the kid an enquiring glance. "What is my name?"

"That's what I'm asking you. You don't remember?"

He furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment. Then he snapped his fingers. "Lucifer," he said triumphantly.

The kid snorted. "You're name's actually Lucifer? Wow. I suddenly feel an inexplicable sense of kinship with you." He held out a hand. "I'm Adam."

Lucifer took it. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"You, too." He let go. "So what's this about a cage?"

Lucifer looked at him blankly. "What cage?"

"You just said it a few minutes ago."

"Oh, that Cage."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that cage."

I'm the Devil. No, I kid, I'm actually your long-lost cousin twice removed. You see, my good man, I'd been kidnapped and lived as an English slave until, finally, I won my freedom in an invigorating game of Go Fish. It was a deucedly good show, eh, wot? Smashing! "I'd like my brother now," Lucifer said.

"Who's your brother?"

"Michael."

"No."

"Yes."

Adam snorted. "Your parents must've been pretty obsessive."

"Perhaps a bit," he conceded.

"Look, what's your brother's number? I'll call him."

"Number?"

"You can at least remember that much, right?"

Lucifer imagined Michael on a cell phone. Or texting.

Dear little-bro,

How's life in the Pit? Still burning in the fires of a thousand suns? Not much has happened here in Paradise, other then the preparations for the coming Apocalypse. Can't wait to kill you dead, bro. TTYL,

Michael the Archangel.

He sniggered.

Adam looked at him curiously. "What?"

"Michael is not entirely invested in this new century," he explained. "It's hard to imagine him even having a phone, much less answering it."

Adam stared at him. "What kind of weird-ass family do you have?"

"One of the weirdest."

"That's obvious. What's your last name?"

"I don't have one?" It came out as a question.

"You don't remember it?"

"No."

Adam sighed. "Well, we can't exactly call you Lucifer I-Don't-Know, so you're going to need a new last name before we find out your real one. And it better not be Morningstar."

"Why not?"

"Come on. Lucifer Morningstar? No one'd believe it."

"Have you any suggestions?"

"Uh. Well, your brother."

"Yes?"

"How about Luc Michaels?"

"Alright," Lucifer agreed.

They were officially illegal conspirators.

Next up: Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.

Weird Randomness!

0000

"I say, old chap, have you got any twos?"

"Damn you, you blackguard," his jailor cursed, throwing two matching Go Fish cards his way. "Devilishly good luck you've got there."

"My good fellow, what can I say?" Lucifer quipped. "I'm a Hell of a gambler."

0000

Up in Heaven, Michael squinted at the screen of his iPhone, concentrating as he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. Nd . . . of . . . Dayz . . . s00n. C . . . U . . . there. L8er . . . bro. Sty . . . Dmonic. "L . . . O . . . L," he said aloud, typing in the three remaining letters.

0000

Chuck facepalmed.

The Apocalypse had never been so friendly before.

0000