AN: Sorry this chapter took so long. Two huge fics with deadlines in Dec. kept me busy. Next chapters will be up soon :)

Thanks for all the lovely reviews by the way :D

And I still don't have a beta so if anyone is collecting mistakes I sure have a lot to spare...

Father Ignatius closed the huge wooden doors after the last of the attendees had left the old church. He gladly discarded his clerical robe and changed into a worn out pair of jeans. Now only his collar was proof of Father Ignatius' priesthood. The lithe man looked pretty ordinary. He was in his early sixtieth, sparse hair still dark blond, crinkles deeply edged into his friendly face. He took a broom and started cleaning the huge Navis and Choir of the little Basilica

Father Ignatius was just about to finish sweeping behind the altar when one of the old wooden doors was opened. He squinted his eyes, tried to catch a look at the newly arrived but without his glasses he just could tell there were to people - men. One was supporting the other.

The priest left his broom behind and rushed to the entrance and his new visitors. If one of them was hurt perhaps he could be of service.

The men looked ragged. One older, with a dark brown beard, obviously in pain, was being supported by a much younger man whose clothes didn't quite fit and whose shoes were missing. Even without his glasses father Ignatius noticed something about that blue eyed boy was off.

"I am Father Ignatius. Can I help you?"

The young man answered and the priest was stunned. Never had he expected him to have such a voice. Deep, commanding, booming through the church despite his low volume. "We just need to rest shortly. We will not bother you, Pater."

"What happened?" Father Ignatius asked eying both men studiously.

"We were ambushed. By de..."

"Thieves." The older man interrupted the younger who immediately went silent.

The priest noticed how the blue eyed man swayed slightly before regaining his rigid composure once again. He was too pale, his skin a sickly tinge and his eyes tired and weary. It was just then that Father Ignatius noticed the dark stain on the young man's shirt, soaking the fabric and drops of red on the stone floor next to his shoeless feet.

"You are hurt!" The priest stated with growing horror. He had seen enough, he needed to call an ambulance!

"Wait!"

Without thinking Father Ignatius stopped dead in his tracks.

"Those... thieves are still after us. We need shelter."

Blue eyes bore into his and again without a conscious decision he nodded his agreement. The priest blinked in confusion. It was as if the young man commanded and he was bound to follow...

~*~

Castiel did not wait for the priest to sort his thoughts. He knew the demons were only a minute or two behind them. They would reach the church all too soon. Bobby was heavily leaning on his shoulder and with every moment he waited he felt his energy drain away, hot and fiery agony burning in his side. The Angel's surroundings already started to blur a bit only coming into focus again with noticeable effort.

"We have to ward this structure," he whispered soft enough that only Bobby could hear. "I am afraid the demons are about to catch up with us and there are still angels after me, too. I am really sorry you got swept up in..."

"Bullshit, Cas! You're a friend of Dean's so we're into this together. Now enough with the chatter, let's get started."

Castiel felt how the old hunter straightened and made a few steps on his own before he sank on one of the old wooden pews.

"Father, you don't happen to have a spare bag of road salt?" Bobby asked

~*~

As the priest returned with two small bags of salt the young man was painting something on one of the walls with his hands. Father Ignatius had not forgotten to fetch his glasses and put them on as soon as he had set the salt down in front of the older man.

While he was instructed to draw a steady line of salt in front of every opening, the priest studied his older visitor closely. His clothes were worn, holey and tattered as if he didn't care. Heavy boots on his feet and a baseball cap on his head. The deep lines edged into his face spoke of years of struggle but there were enough crinkles around the determined looking eyes that Father Ignatius was convinced he was a kind man at heart.

"Now would you mind hurrying up a bit?!" The gruff voice of the older man pulled the priest out of his musings. Of course, he had to salt a church. Although he wasn't sure why...

Father Ignatius had just finished drawing a line of rock salt in front of the huge front doors as he noticed the strange paintings on the stone walls. The dark red color left no doubt about what had been used as paint – blood. Even the smell of it still lingered in the air making the priest queasy. They had to be madmen! Although he had not noticed any malice, and normally his knowledge of human nature didn't fail him, this time it seemed as if... He had to call the police! Without the two men noticing.

Then the squeal of the side door's hinges resounded through the huge Navis and the next moment the priest's body hit one of the walls. He blinked in confusion, noticed three men entering his church and felt how suddenly his hair stood on end. They were pure evil. Even without those malign black eyes he had perceived them. Hell spawn. Pater Ignatius swallowed and started to pray.

~*~

"Sam."

The young man turned around hastily, nearly knocking over a chair again. He was no longer alone in Bobby's kitchen. There was a man, not as tall as he himself but nevertheless lean and good looking. Long blond hair pulled together in a pony tail, dark round sunglasses, a black suit jacket, a white roll neck, black jeans and expensive sneakers.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Sam demanded to know while going into a defensive stance. He was prepared to burst into action any second.

"Oh, I think you know pretty well who I am. And I came to deliver my thank-you-card personally."

"Thank you? What for?"

"Don't play dumb, Sam. For freeing me, dumbo."

Suddenly the guy reached out and pulled a very startled Winchester into a passionate kiss. With tongue, teeth and everything. When he let go a few moments later both were panting heavily – for different reasons. Sam frantically opened a drawer and pulled out a long cooking knife, aiming at... at Lucifer. He suddenly felt very small and defenseless.

"Do not even think about repeating that!"

Lucifer licked his lips smirking slightly. "Sorry, I did not mean to offend you, Sam. As I said I am here to give my thanks. I know Ruby and those angels tricked you into releasing me. Still it was you who did all the hard work. I'd like to reward you. Help you and those you love to survive the Apocalypse."

"Why...?"

"You mean, why do I, the Devil, want to help someone? First of all, most of the things you believe to know about me are... how would you call it... bullshit. Bad publicity. The work of the Angel's PR department."

Lucifer walked a slow circle while talking, his gaze always directed at Sam, never leaving his eyes even for a moment.

"Of course, after banishing me, they spread lies. Told everyone I would devour small children and so forth. They made sure your people would fear and hate me. I am very sad they were successful, for I too am just a mere angel." Lucifer battered his eyelashes mockingly.

"And secondly, as I said, I am grateful. We both know the angels – and the roaming demons - will lay waste to your precious earth. Nobody will survive if the Heavenly Host has a say and I am afraid there is only so much I can do... But I am willing to give shelter to those humans that are precious to you. I do not want you to come to harm, Sam. Please, let me help you." Lucifer had slowly stretched out his arm while speaking and was touching the young man's cheek now.

"I know how it feels to loose a brother and I do not want you to have to live through that sorrow and grief again. Did you know I raised Castiel again after he was killed by one of our own brothers? You see, I really am not the bad guy the Church preaches, Sam. Please, let me help you."

Sam had closed his eyes, too much was tumbling down on the young hunter. Was Lucifer telling the truth? The angels the Winchesters had encountered so far had been dicks enough the Devil's words didn't sound that ridiculous at second glance. Had he really been the victim of one of the Heavenly douches? Sam took a deep breath and opened his eyes again, prepared to accept Lucifer's offer. They had to take every tiny bit of help they could get.

"There is just one small thing I want in return, Sam. It is nothing that will hurt your brother or Bobby. You see, this isn't a real body." The lean man pointed down at his slim figure. "I am just a mere shadow of what I used to be. A projection, you might say. But to fight Heaven, to protect your family I need more substance. I need a vessel. I need you."

"Me? You need a vessel?"

"I am still an angel after all."

"Oh..."

"There is just so much I can do while in this form. I have already warded your precious car. So none of the Heavenly Host would be able to sense your location as long as you are in the vicinity of this exceptional beauty."

"Now you sound like Dean..." Sam couldn't help but smile.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Sam. Now, back to my offer and the small thing I request in return. Think about it. We'll meet again rather soon - I'd like to know your answer by then. Oh, and don't forget: as long as I am in this form you are at the Host's mercy. So stay near your car – at all costs!"

Sam was alone again, the taste of Lucifer still on his lips, the sound of his words still ringing in his ears.