I'm noticing this story is very dialog-centered. I'm hoping to change that in the coming chapters, but hopefully it's at least readable for now. This one's a lot of talking as well. Sorry if it's not very exciting. Anyhow, thanks so much for sticking with it this far!

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Chapter 8

Castiel still spent all of his time either at the portal site or scouring the Earth looking for a way to bring his human pet back. Lucifer empathized with the obsession to a degree. He understood the guilt, and the determination, but he could not wrap his mind around the fixation on Dean Winchester. Why him? Why a human? Most angels thought little of them, even if they weren't supposed to be capable of free thought. All angels harbored some personal opinions, they just ignored them. He couldn't.

His father had made him like that, surely; nothing happened without God's approval. God controlled every aspect of the angels, and thusly, created Lucifer to be rebellious. He had thought about it for millennia, how his father had intentionally gave him the gift of free thought and then punished him for it. Ultimately he had arrived at the conclusion that God had a twisted sense of humor. His creations were entertainment to him. That's why he permitted disease and poverty and violence and torture. These things were interesting. Simplicity was not. Sometimes the Devil hated God. Sometimes he agreed with him.

Castiel was not much for talking while he was on Portal Duty, and attempts to get through to him were testing the Devil's patience. He could only contain his desire to completely reprogram his younger brother's mind through so much obstinance. So he had left him alone for the past few weeks. The younger never deviated from his strict schedule so Lucifer knew exactly where to find him should he need him. In the meantime, he reacquainted himself with the world.

Mindful of the fact that any impactful activity would set off an alarm not only in Castiel's head, but in the heads of all the angels still in Heaven, Lucifer revisited many of his favorite locations on Earth, grimacing when he saw the state of them. Once glorious mountains, fields, forests, and rivers, now had fallen to the industrialization and selfishness of man. He wondered if this could even be called Earth anymore. Whole species, too, had been wiped out by their carelessness. God found this acceptable? He scoffed. Of course he did. Everything man did was acceptable to Him.

The more of Earth he saw, the sicker he felt. They had destroyed their home, this beautiful work of God, and they did not even care. He hated them. He hated God for letting it happen. He hated the angels for not standing with him when they had the chance. Had all of Heaven sided with him, perhaps they could have saved this wonderful place, the true embodiment of God's beauty. But that beauty was gone now, in God and on Earth. Were he human he would have thrown up. Instead he just felt the numbing effect in his Grace.

Seeking something he did not wish to smite, he opted to visit an old friend. Who likely wanted nothing more than his Grace in a jar and his head on a spike. The thought made him smirk.

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Sam hooked the leash onto his impatient dog, eager for their morning jog. Opening the door quietly so as not to wake Amelia, he lets his companion out first, and is almost pulled into their usual pace. Two miles down the road and back again. He may not have as vigorous a training schedule now that he was no longer hunting, but he kept himself in shape. Two miles was nothing.

When they got back, Amelia had awoken and was prepping breakfast for the three of them. He kissed her cheek and unhooked the leash so the dog could get to his water. When breakfast was ready, and she sat down, he wondered why he had turned his back on a life like this after Azaezel was killed. Just until Jess's death was avenged, that's what he had told Dean when he first fetched him from Stamford. That was six years ago. He was supposed to have returned to a normal life six years ago. Why had he waited? The answer was both simple, and not so simple.

Dean.

His brother depended on him. They depended on one another, really. So when he asked Sam to stay, he did. That's how it always worked. Listen to Dean. But he didn't always want to. And not listening to him had almost gotten them both killed. Worse, it freed Lucifer from Hell. So many things in their lives and in the world went wrong after he decided to remain a hunter. Everyone would have been better off if he had just left when he said he would leave. Dean might have even still been alive. His justifications for not looking for his older brother were shaky, even to him, but he managed to convince himself this was for the better. It gave them both a way out. Even if Dean's way out unfortunately was death. The two of them came to terms long ago that they likely would not see age forty. And they'd had more chances than most. Everyone's time had to come eventually. And in truth, he was tired of fighting for their survival. He didn't want to survive anymore. He wanted to live.

"Are you really living though, Sam?" came a startlingly familiar voice. He turned back around to face forward and saw Lucifer back in the same vessel he "improvised" as he called it back when they freed him. Jumping, he made to run and grab the angel blade he kept hidden in the kitchen. "I wouldn't," Lucifer interjected, "She can't see me. Wouldn't want to appear anything other than normal, now would we? So I suggest keeping your voice down as well."

"If you hurt her," Sam growled, fists clenched at his sides as he spared one last glance in Amelia's direction, still cleaning the dishes from their breakfast.

"Thought never crossed my mind," the Devil's eyes were uncharacteristically friendly. He motioned to Sam's ajar chair with them. Hesitating, Sam seated himself again, entire body tensed.

"How are you even here right now?" He growled. "I jumped into that pit with you trapped in my body. The door snapped shut behind us. There's no way you could have escaped."

"I would have said the same thing to you," the Devil chuckled, "yet here you are without a scratch; barely an unpleasant memory on you thanks to loyal little Castiel. He pulled you out. You don't think I couldn't have followed him? Clever little tactic he pulled, finding a way into the cage like that. The thing about it is, it's so heavily secured that you get the alert on the inside as well that someone's breached it. So following him out wasn't particularly challenging. Hell, I let him rescue you for that reason. So we both got a get-out-of-jail-free card. How 'bout that?"

"Not buyin' it," Sam glared at him, "Castiel's careful."

Lucifer scoffed. "Is he? Could have fooled me with the Leviathan fiasco. Even the archangels know not to fuck with Purgatory. Well, at least they did. Raphael brought his death upon himself. He was always a bit thick. Made him a bit of a liability at times."

"Sam?" He heard Amelia call. "Who are you talking to?"

"Just on the phone," he answered back quickly, jumping up and pulling out his phone. Lucifer nodded in understanding, a look on his face not unlike some form of parental pride. Sam went to the kitchen to kiss her see her face-to-face. "I've actually got to head out for a couple of minutes."

"Everything alright?" She asked with a hint of concern.

He gave her his best boyish grin. "Everything's fine, just gotta take care of something." With a quick kiss to her cheek, he returned to the dining room and gestured to the Devil to follow him.

"Go ahead and grab your angel blade if it makes you feel more comfortable, Sam," he offered, "I promise I'm not here to harm you, but I know a hunter's instinct."

Wondering if it was one of the Devil's tricks, he eventually decided on grabbing the blade anyway before heading outside. "Whatever you're here for, just leave her out of it," Sam demanded as he led the Devil away from his house.

"I'm just here to talk," Lucifer said.

"Like Hell you are," Sam's tone sounded defensive.

"Honestly. Oh, might want to hold your phone up to your ear, unless your neighbors are used to you talking to yourself," the archangel chaffed.

"We're not doing this here."

"Where then? I can take us wherever you'd be most comfortable having a conversation." He paused to listen. "Castiel's a little busy trying to find a way to rescue your brother right now. Doubt he's listening to prayers."

Sam stopped. "How the Hell do you know that?" He looked ready to murder the Devil at any moment.

"Let's get to where we're going so we can have a proper chat," the archangel avoided.

"I'm not saying a word to you without Castiel here."

"We don't need a supervisor."

"I don't like being outmatched. Would at least like to have the numbers on my side." Something sparked behind Lucifer's eye at that. Sam dared not ask why that excited him.

The next time he blinked they no longer on the sidewalk in his neighborhood. Instinct overwhelmed him and he took a fighting stance, taking the angel blade out from tucked in the band of his pants and readying it.

"Calm down Sam," Lucifer said calmly, gesturing for him to relax. "Just figured we'd go somewhere you're more comfortable. This place is a home to you, is it not?"

"More comfortable, I'm -" He stopped when their location registered. Bobby's old house. Dust had claimed all of the furniture and books. Some bottles still remained scattered about. The once cozy home of the simple hunter now felt abandoned and melancholy. He had not even given this place a passing glance during a drive by since Dean's death. "Bobby's?"

"You've never had much of a home besides this place, if my memory of your head serves," he leaned back against the old desk, "and it does."

Sam sighed in an attempt to clear the depressing images from his mind. "What do you want?"

"Just to talk, I assure you. You know me, I talk a lot."

"Yeah, and it's never good for the subject to listen," Sam pointed out, trying to decide if sitting would be wise.

"Don't be so sure of that," Lucifer disagreed, "it helped clear Castiel's head after he lifted the Hell scars off of yours. Go ahead and sit down, Sam. I'll keep at an arm's length if it makes you more comfortable."

The Devil reading his mind almost did not register. "Cleared Castiel's… how long have you been out?" He demanded.

"Longer than you'd prefer to know," Lucifer answered honestly. "And at the moment you're wondering how you didn't notice. This may come as a shock to you, Sam, but it's not because you've been out of the game. I've been enjoying my freedom. The apocalypse was de-railed, why would I bother trying to set it up again? All it means for me is I have to kill my brother, and be framed as the enemy again in the eyes of Heaven. It's just nice to get some fresh air now that I've got a second chance. So I'm saying 'screw you' to God's plan." He paused to get Sam to look at him. "Trick I learned from a friend."

Sam scoffed. "You were the original rebel. You didn't learn that from me."

Lucifer cocked his head to the side and back. "I'm not so sure my rebellion wasn't foretold. Heaven was run more strictly than any totalitarian government. Except the angels actually enjoyed it because they knew nothing else. But think about it, Sam: nothing is created without God's approval,because he's the one that makes it. I couldn't have rebelled unless he allowed it, couldn't have even began to question his decisions unless he made me capable of questioning. I think he wanted that because he wanted balance, and maybe to elevate Heaven's status a little. But I did not come here to discuss that. Unless you're truly interested, in which case we can make time for it later. What I really hoped I could talk with you about actually fits our current setting very well. I remember a time when you killed yourself to keep your brother safe. When you risked the future of your world just to try and protect him. Now he's locked in Purgatory and you're just sitting on the side lines pretending this is somehow better for the two of you? Something's not right with this picture."

"What's 'not right' with it is that I'm leaving the hunting life behind me."

"This will always be your life, Sam."

"Suddenly a little skeptical I wasn't always 'running towards you?'" Sam instigated.

"Not in the slightest. I'm wondering what the Hell happened to that co-dependent relationship you and Dean had. Or is Hell exactly what happened?"

"What do you even care?" Sam snapped.

The Morningstar almost looked offended. "Your inability to comprehend that I genuinely care for you is understandable. I assume you're trying to find some sort of agenda in my actions. There's nothing to find. I'll take you back to your foster life if trying to talk to you will get me nowhere. But this passive behavior is not sitting well with me. That's not who you are, Sam Winchester. You're not the type of guy to sit back and let chaos unfold. You don't let anything or anyone tread on you. Fate is not a concept you agree with. You believe in taking a stand and fighting for the right to choose your own path. You're like that because I'm like that. 'As it is in Heaven, so shall it be on Earth,' remember? So either you think Dean truly belongs in Purgatory - which I sincerely doubt - or something's soured your grapefruit."

Sometimes the words the Devil chose required rethinking. He wasn't sure if it was deliberate or just another example of angels being socially inept. "I don't have an answer." His voice sounded more pained than he wanted it to. He looked at his hands. "I thought I'd be more upset than this when Dean died. It was sad, I mean, I lost my brother again, but I don't know. I'm just so tired of it all. I've lost him too many times, and no matter how many times I fight to get him back, there's gonna come a time where I'm going to lose him for good. Nobody can live forever. I'm sick of the chase. It's not even a chase anymore. It's tug-of-war."

The Devil was staring at him, listening insightfully. "I left home and went to school because I never wanted this life," he continued, "I wanted a normal one. But as long as I keep getting involved in this sort of stuff, rescuing Dean from Hell, breaking him out of Purgatory, whatever, the deeper I dig myself into this life. I just want a normal, boring existence like the rest of the world."

"You're the vessel of an angel An archangel. You're life was never destined to be normal, Sam. You were always meant for something greater."

"Well that time has come and gone. Now I just want to be meant for something smaller."

"You threw away the rulebook. You changed the course of action for this world. In paradise perhaps you would have gotten a break but you chose this life, a life of hardships and pains."

Sam gave him a look. "Getting to paradise meant Michael killing you. I would have died to."

"Wasn't talking about that paradise." Sam ground his teeth at the Devil's half-smile. "I still like my design plan for the Earth better. But your choice also reflects your view on family, which I'm rather proud of. And why I'm refusing to believe that this is it. Knowing him, Castiel will find a way to get Dean out of Purgatory with our without your help. So where will that leave the two of you when he comes back?"

"And you know Castiel?" It was more of a dismissal than a question.

"He's my brother. I know him better than you imagine. And him and I are more alike than he's currently willing to admit. He'll come around though. Regardless," Lucifer clapped his hands together and pointed towards the younger Winchester brother with his joined fingers, "just wanted to get you thinking about what this path could mean for your relationship with your brother once Castiel returns him to the world of the living."

"Does it even matter?" Sam snapped, fed up with the Devil's game. "This doesn't concern you at all. I cannot honestly see you caring about the trivial relationships of a couple of humans! So what's your real game?"

The Morningstar caught his gaze and did not let it go. The silence between them hung heavy, but Lucifer let it sit. Sam stared back, and he noticed some clarity coming to the human's slower mind. Humans liked to communicate through eye contact, so he held it until Sam's eyes softened. His focus did not change, did not even blink, when he finally spoke.

"You will always be important to me, Sam Winchester. And you willingly condemned yourself to an eternity in Hell for the safety of your brother. I can relate."

Sam dropped their shared gaze first to stare at his hands. He idly remembered watching the Devil use them to beat Dean senseless against the impala, the only home they had ever really known during a life on the road. Bobby's house was a comfortable, and was a home of sorts. But home to both of them for so long had been the open road, one in the passenger seat (usually him) and the other driving the Impala too fast down an empty street, the sound one of Dean's tapes playing because he was too picky to listen to anything other than what he owned mixing with the purr of the car below them. He remembered Dean wheezing out "It's okay Sammy, I'm here," from behind broken teeth, a broken jaw, two black eyes and a broken nose, his entire face swollen and sore. He remembered seeing the army man in the ash tray, still crammed in there from when he got it stuck in there when he was eight or nine years old, he couldn't remember which, and all of the little kinks the two of them had collectively put in the Impala's armor throughout the years that Dean had taken care to leave as they were when he rebuilt her. They were together, they were home, and that gave him the strength to push through the Devil's hold on him and save the only thing that ever mattered to him, the only constant in his life: Dean. Dean had taken care of him. It was his turn.

He looked up, but Lucifer was gone, as was Bobby's house. He was in Amelia's living room again, his position the same. He looked around frantically in hopes of getting in one last word, but the Devil had left him to his thoughts.

Amelia rounded the corner and started at the sight of Sam there when she had not heard him come in. "Hey," she called cheerily, "everything alright?"

He looked at her, shaking off his confusion. "Yeah. Everything's fine." He smiled. Because everything would be fine, too. He'd make sure of it. He knew Castiel, too, and knew that when the angel became determined, he found a way to accomplish his goals. Maybe he could achieve them quicker with a little help.

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Please leave any comments or constructive criticism! A simple "hey nice job" can go along way and kick me in to gear when it comes to actually grinding out the next chapter! Thanks so much again for reading!