I hated how exhausted I was when we got back to Hell. Thankfully Lucifer teleported us directly to my cell, because he practically had to carry me to the chair before I collapsed.

If any Demons saw me in this state, I'd never live it down.

"I'm sorry," said Lucifer as he crouched in front of me. He produced a syringe of blood from thin air and slid it into my arm just above his binding mark.

I twisted my relieved sigh into an indignant huff. "You're sorry?!"

"The amount of blood I've exposed you to... it'll take you a while to recover from such a strong addiction, and I'm afraid it's gonna get worse before it gets better."

Oh… bullocks…

As he withdrew from my wrist, Lucifer put his fingers on his mark. It stung for a second, but it was gone.

I massaged my sore skin and glared. "I'd rather quit cold turkey."

He examined the empty syringe thoughtfully for a moment before banishing it. "No… I'm not gonna let you suffer like that."

Let me suffer?!

It took a great deal of strength not to sucker punch the Archangel in his rotten jaw. Human anger doesn't burn as hot as the Demon equivalent, but it's more visceral and demanding. Once it was under control I rolled my eyes and growled, "Don't do me any favors."

Without warning, Lucifer reached out and put his hands on either side of my face. He was still crouching in front of me and he tilted my head down so I was forced to stare into his cold blue eyes.

I gripped the arms of the chair as his frigid power pierced through me. I wanted to flee my vessel and fly as far away from here as I could get.

Maybe I can hide the stratosphere and spend the rest of my existence as a cloud? That would be nice.

"All I've done is do you favors," Lucifer said in his softest, iciest voice. "I've given you more than I've given anyone… maybe even my Father, and I know you don't see it yet, but you will. I promise."

He released me and slowly stood, backing away.

My eyes were wide as I watched him move out of my personal space.

Holy shit do I ever need to get the bloody Hell out of Hell…

Suddenly awkward, Lucifer ran a hand through his hair and said, "I'll be back in a bit. You get some rest."

He was quick to turn on his heal and retreat, but I was hit by an epiphany. I couldn't figure a way out of my cell because I didn't know what was keeping me here, but if Lucifer took me out on another excursion, I might be able to do something about his binding sigil!

"Wait," I said softly. Burning with shame, I kept my eyes lowered. I really didn't want to do this, but it was too late; the Devil paused at the door and was looking at me over his shoulder with one eyebrow raised.

I swallowed stiffly. "About tonight… I… I enjoyed it, immensely. Not the ice cream so much, but the fresh air, and the lights, and… and the music…" Just thinking about that music made my breath hitch. The sincerity in my voice disturbed me. "I didn't thank you, so…" I forced myself to look at him. "Thank you."

He relaxed with an easy smile. It was almost as though he was relieved about something.

What does the Devil have to be worried about?

"It was fun, wasn't it?" His face relaxed into a distant expression for a moment before he nodded at me and left, closing the door behind him.

Slowly I let out a shuddering breath. If I didn't escape before Lucifer figured out that was (mostly) a sell, I was going to be one dead Demon.

I braced my elbows on my knees, laced my fingers together, rested my brow against them, and closed my eyes. I couldn't use my powers while the mark was on me, so that ruled out anything Demonic. I'd could use magic…

Most witches pulled their power from Demons, but I knew a thing or two more than most witches. The real magic; the old magic… that comes from the Earth. So, I needed an old spell; one that could remove something as ludicrous as Satan's power, didn't require much by way of ingredients, and didn't need any flashy preparation.

With no access to my library, this was going to be about as easy as convincing an Angel to make a Crossroads deal, but I actually managed to pull that off once. I'd find a way to do this as well.

I withdrew into my mind, only keeping a loose grasp on my meatsuit so I could listen for Lucifer's return. Deep down in there I careful dug through my memory. Book after book, spell after spell crossed through my mind, quickly observed and just as quickly discarded. It was an exercise in frustration. Most of what I knew by heart was nowhere near powerful enough for the task at hand, and any magic that could do the trick was incredibly difficult to weave and required rare ingredients I had no way to access.

The older and more obscure I went, the harder entire spells were to recall. There were references in my brain to something just beyond my reach.

Slowly I pieced it together.

Fire…

Fire that can burn anything; requiring only blood and words.

I've always been good with fire, and my vessel's heart was still pumping the good stuff around. It was exactly for emergencies like this that I insisted on wearing a living meatsuit. Flesh is Earth, and life is power.

Learned that from my mother (may Satan devour her soul).

The words were in a long forgotten form of proto-Gaelic that had not been heard since before rise of Rome. I knew which Grimoire I wrote them in. I knew the exact spot on the exact shelf where I could find the little black book… in the library I couldn't get to.

I could not for the life of me remember the words themselves.

Someone's coming.

The footsteps pattering down the hall were light, quick, almost cautions. They were nothing like the confident gait of Lucifer's tall vessel. No, this was someone small and sneaky. Someone who knew they shouldn't be here.

I drifted out of my own mind to find I must have been in there longer then I thought. I was crashing again.

The intruder didn't try anything with the door yet, so I stood and slid my hands into my pockets to hide their shaking. I couldn't so much as touch that door, but could a Demon on the outside open it? My curiosity outweighed my fear, so I said, "It's open."

There was a moment where nothing happened and I doubted if I really heard someone out there; then the copper door handle snapped down and the ancient wood groaned as it was pushed open.

Standing there looking nervous, was Meg. Of course it was Meg. She had to be one of the only Demons left who was bold enough to disturb Lucifer's personal plaything.

She said nothing, just stared with her nose wrinkled in confusion. It was freaking me out a little.

"Well? Are you going to stand there, or are you coming in?" I wasn't worried about her hurting me. In my current sorry state, I had to remind myself I could use my powers, but I still had them.

If she could enter the room, it would prove a few theories.

She tried. Lifted her foot and everything, but after a second, she put it back down.

"I can't." She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "Lucifer has you trapped in there."

I rolled my eyes. "Just because you're barred from entry, doesn't mean I can't get out."

"Then come out here." She flashed me with a malicious grin. It was the smile of a dark, unfeeling monster.

Something new twisted inside of me. I was getting better at naming the various feelings I'd been cursed with, but some of them still eluded me.

This wasn't fear, though… or hatred.

I took a long look at the true creature hiding beneath that pretty flesh. Most Demons are hideous; scarred, burned, bits gouged out, skin ripped off, muscle and sinew on display. We each bore the marks of the torture that created us and it rendered us as ugly, festering things that barely resembled the human's we once were.

Meg, though… Azazel had been careful, almost artful in her creation. Flesh removed with elegant symmetry, curling patterns cut and burned into her. She had suffered as much as any Demon, but her "father" had made her into something he would call beautiful.

I might have called her that as well…

Only her suffering, her stripped humanity, her forced loyalty to the Archangel; it all caused that awful twisting inside of me and left a bad taste in my mouth.

Pity?

She was talking. "You can't leave, can you? And here I was worried. You're Lucifer's prisoner! I can't even imagine what tortures he has in store for you, traitor!"

I quirked an eyebrow at her. "Torture?" I lazily gazed around my cell for effect. "The room's a bit spartan, but I wouldn't call it torture."

She laughed, clearly not believing me.

I stepped closer to the door and leaned towards her conspiratorially. "And if I am a prisoner, then why did you see me in the throne room? Why would dear Lucy be taking me on excursions to Earth?"

That gave her pause. Her eyes narrowed at me and her lips pursed as she squinted, straining to see something.

"Um… have I got something on my face?" I asked.

"I can't…" Her eyes widened and she gasped as she backed away from the door in alarm.

Well that's worrying.

I got as close to the exit as I could. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?!" she spat. She pressed her back against the far wall of the hall and kept her eyes averted. "You might be wearing Crowley's meatsuit, but you're not him! You're… what are you?"

I felt that creeping cold that Lucifer left in me as I looked down at myself. I was still a Demon, wasn't I? Sure, I had feelings now, but I didn't change that much!

"What do you see?" I demanded.

The skin around Meg's eyes tightened, but she didn't answer.

"Meg…" The threat in my voice was empty, but I really wanted to know what was wrong with me.

The Demon snarled, white hot anger giving her the nerve to glare at me again. "Don't you dare think you can order me around, you freak!"

I blinked at her a couple of times and then smirked as a nasty thought crossed my mind. "Why don't you go fetch Lucifer and we'll hear what he has to say about that?"

She surged forward like an animal and got as close to my face as the invisible barrier would let her.

I kept still, my expression neutral. In this enraged state she was more likely to let something slip.

"If you weren't safe in that damn room, I'd be strangling you with your own intestines right now."

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, Meg was thrown away from me and pinned against the far wall.

It was Lucifer's voice that answered her. "I know I didn't specifically say the words, 'don't mess with my stuff,' but I didn't think I needed to." He was walking briskly down the hall towards us and the hard lines on his face had me retreating from the open doorway.

His ire wasn't directed at me, though. He stopped in front of Meg and said, "I'm very disappointed, child."

I was ready to close the door and let him deal with her, but I froze when the Demon shrieked in pain. The ghosts of my own suffering flitted through me, making me shudder.

"Please," she breathed between screams. "I… I'm sorry… I didn't…"

Lucifer cocked his head. "Sorry's not good enough."

I realized he intended to destroy her, and a part of me hurt at the thought. For some reason, I didn't want the spunky little Demon to die, especially not screaming in pain where I could hear it.

I stepped back into the doorway and cautiously said, "Lucifer? Would you… be a dear and stop that?"

To my amazement, he listened. Meg still hung suspended against the stone, but she was limp and panting in relief.

The Archangel glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyebrows raised.

"Just let her go," I said with a shrug.

He squinted suspiciously. "Let her go? She threatened you!"

I rolled my eyes. "Please. We're Demons. That's how we show affection."

I could tell he wasn't buying what I was selling, but his eyes wandered towards the ceiling as he thought for a moment. He sighed and said, "Alright. She's free to go."

"Really?" My face scrunched up as I watched Meg slump to the floor.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" The corners of the bastard Angel's mouth were curled in amusement. He turned back to the collapsed Demon and said, "You. If I catch you threatening him again, I you're gonna get a one way ticket to non-existenceville."

Meg forced herself shakily to her feet and kept her head down in supplication. "Yes my Lord…"

She shied a glance at me and I could see her confusion and wonder laid bare. She nodded in as close as a Demon can get to gratitude before scurrying away.

As Lucifer came into the room and prattled about some new human invention he wanted to try, I sank into my chair and struggled to get enough air into my lungs.

Your vessel's lungs… remember?

It was as though some heavy weight was bearing down on me.

Lucifer did what I asked…

He doesn't do anything for anyone but himself...

So why would he listen to me?

Lucifer started dragging me out as often as he could, to the point that I suspected he might be putting off the Apocalypse in favor of spending time with his new pet.

I appreciated getting out of my cell, but it left me very little time to myself. Every moment I did get, I spent trying to piece together that elusive fire spell.

Weeks passed, and I didn't make a lick of progress.

I was stewing over this for the thousandth time when Lucifer's voice cut through me. "What do you mean, the Winchesters are dead?!"

We were standing in the throne room, preparing to go out again. The Devil was glaring at an exceptionally ugly Demon who was wearing a plain middle-aged man.

"They were gunned down by a couple of Hunters," said the Demon. "Saw it myself."

Lucifer was rigid, his hands curling into claws at his side. Coldly and calmly he said, "You know that I need Sam Winchester alive?"

"Uh… yeah, I guess." The poor sod wasn't running. Couldn't he smell the deep shit he was in?

"You saw these Hunters kill him, and you didn't do anything to stop it?"

The Demon shrugged. "You told me to keep an eye on him, not save him."

I flinched when Lucifer snapped his fingers. The room was momentarily filled with screaming and fire, and then we were alone. Nothing was left of the Demon or his meatsuit except a small pile of ash.

The Archangel suddenly rounded on me. "You stay here."

"What?" I blinked at him in shock and fear.

"Stay here," Lucifer ordered with a firm frown. "I need to go deal with this."

He didn't even wait for me to reply. With a flutter of great wings, he was gone.

I was alone in the throne room, and though I still bore that infernal mark, I didn't feel that desperate need to follow the Archangel.

The Winchesters were dead.

No one was left to stop the Devil.

I clutched at the front of my suit as that bright little thing I'd been clinging to slipped from my grasp and flickered out.

"No need to look so grim."

I whipped around and found a thin man - papery white skin and the blackest hair and eyes - sitting primly on the Throne of Hell like he owned it. He wore a dark suit that was even nicer than mine, and he twiddled a cane between his hands. On one of his long, twiggy fingers was a black signet ring set with a white stone.

"Those two annoyances never stay dead for long." His right eye twitched and his mouth tightened into a thin line. "It's quite frustrating, actually."

This guy was no Demon, nor was he an Angel. At first glance he appeared to be exactly what he was; an old man.

I knew better, though. I lowered my hand and peered beyond the veil of humanity he wore. There I found something my mind couldn't quite comprehend; something without darkness or light, beyond void and form, older than time and more powerful then Creation itself.

I closed my eyes and stumbled away, hunched over as I struggled to catch my breath.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked as though nothing just happened.

I pulled myself together and straightened up. When I looked at him again, I didn't try to see beyond what was in front of me.

"Yeah," I answered. I searched myself and found I was more amused then afraid. "Lucifer send you to babysit me?"

He stared for a moment before cracking a dignified little smile. "It's more like I got rid of him so we can talk."

Got rid of him? Lucy went to save Sam… "You killed the Winchesters?" I squeaked. I wanted to be mad at him for ruining my last and best hope, but yelling at Death would be a very bad idea.

"No. I don't kill anyone unless it's to stop the fabric of reality from collapsing." He spoke like he was explaining why we don't stick knives in the toaster. "I'm simply the thing that happens when one goes from being alive, to being something else. You should know. You looked at my true form and recognized it from… say? 287 years ago?"

He knows the exact year that Fergus died? But that shouldn't be possible. I did my research long before the Light Bringer sprung his cage, and this particular Horseman was buried since before recorded history till just about 2 months ago.

"Weren't you sealed away during that wee clarty stour?" I slipped into my old brogue in the name of humor.

Death rose to his feet and I was surprised to find he was about the same height as my rather short meatsuit. He gestured at himself and said, "This is only a representation of what I am, and though I did miss walking the Earth while it was locked away, I never needed it to perform my function."

"Ah… That explains a lot, actually." We were getting off topic, though. I tilted my head and asked, "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"This." Death reached into the left pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a little book. The dark leather bindings of it were oddly familiar.

It can't be…

"Where did you get that?!" I rushed over and took it from him. After turning it over in my hands and checking the inscription, I confirmed it was the exact Grimoire I needed; the one with the spell I was trying to remember!

"From your library," Death answered simply. He stood back and watched as I frantically flipped to the correct page. "Your house was in the process of being burned down, but I put a stop to that."

I barely heard him. There it was! Written out in my own practised hand.

But… how in the bloody Hell did he know I needed this?

As though reading my mind, he said, "I'm Death. You're dead. In a way, you belong to me even more then you do to Lucifer."

I shuddered at that. I wasn't so keen on belonging to anyone.

Nothing could quell my panicked excitement though. Nearly at a loss, I blinked at him and breathed, "But why?"

"Because you and I are in a similar position, but where the bonds Lucifer has on me are unbreakable, you have a chance of escaping."

I took a deep breath as I put it all together. "You want me to stop him."

"Yes." Death held up on finger. "And before you ask, I can't give you my ring now. I'll need you to fetch something for me first." He produced a heavy, folded piece of parchment and slipped it into the pages of my Grimoire. "Follow those instructions and do not try to find me until the other three rings have been obtained."

He paused, and then as an afterthought he added, "And bring Dean Winchester with you. I need to give that pest a talk."

"Um… sure…" I wasn't as eloquent as I like to think myself, but in my defence, I was completely overwhelmed.

"You'd better hurry."

"Right!" I got to studying the spell and absently walked past him. Without thinking, I sank down into the Throne. My eyes flittered over the aging paper and right away my heart began to sink.

There was a good reason this bit of magic was long forgotten. The fire required a bit of blood as an accelerant and a bit of soul for kindling. The words acted as the flint and the whole thing would burn so hot that any human who ever tried it was utterly consumed.

"I can't use this…" Ignoring that I'd be cooked to a cinder, I didn't have any soul to get the ball rolling in the first place.

Death cleared his throat to get my attention. Once I met his eyes, he said, "We're both counting on this. Do you really think I would give you a spell you couldn't use?"

I swallowed thickly. He needed me to survive and stop the Devil, so he must think I could stand the fire.

On the other hand, Demons might have once been souls, but they're stripped of everything that gave a soul value. If Death thought I had what it took to get the spell going, then what does that make me?!

Oh well… Nothing for it but to try.

"I need a knife," I said.

Death held out a little dagger that looked like it was crafted during the Bronze Age. Tucking my book away in my jacket, I took the blade from him and used it to cut a deep gash into my left hand. I pressed the oozing wound against Lucifer's mark on my right wrist, but before I moved on to the next step I looked up at the dark figure.

Can it really be this easy?

He huffed and waved at me to get on with it.

Shifting my shoulders, I closed my eyes and muttered the newly memorised words.

I expected the same kind of searing pain that the Devil's Grace caused. What I got was a tiny lick of flame that flickered in my smoky core and hardly burned at all.

In my shock, I failed to keep it from going out.

All of my breath left me and I laughed. "It worked!"

"I'm happy for you," Death said with a deep frown. "But Sam and Dean have returned from Heaven and Lucifer will be heading back soon."

"Bullocks." My hand was still bleeding, so pressed it over the mark again and repeated the process.

This time, when the flame ignited I fanned it and fed it till it grew into a roaring fire. It still didn't burn though. It licked along my incorporeal form without damaging me in the slightest, and the stronger it grew, the warmer and stronger I felt.

I didn't realise how deeply Lucifer's ice had pierced me until it started melting. This was like settling next to a well fed hearth after days of walking through freezing rain.

I couldn't completely control the flames, but I found I could direct them. I guided them down my vessel's left arm, into my hand, through the cut, and onto the Devil's mark. Finally there was the agony that I had been anticipating, but I bit down on my scream and focused until that burning faded back to gentle warmth.

Once I reluctantly extinguished the fire, I opened my eyes. The mark was gone, leaving nothing but an ugly burn on my vessel's flesh. Death was gone. Lucifer wasn't back yet.

For the first time and almost two months, I was alone… and I was free.

Flexing my powers was like stretching a long unused muscle, but it didn't matter.

I teleported the Hell out of there.