"Hey! You could at least wash the bag, you know!"

Admittedly, Dean's first thought was "good riddance", but the fact that Lucifer was gone could mean nothing good.

"Do you think he was kidnapped?" Sam inquired as he bent down to get a better look at the bloodstain.

"There's no way. I mean, I was standing less than three feet from him. You'd think I'd hear something. There should have been more of a struggle."

"So, you think he just wandered off? That doesn't make any sense…"

"In any case, we should try to find him." Dean hated those words coming out of his mouth, but he knew they had to. Better Lucifer be with them rather than anyone else…

"Hey! You could at least wash the bag, you know!" The former angel's voice was heavy with exhaustion, having only just regained his ability to speak from the paralysis. The rest of his body was just as weak, and he didn't even have the energy to try to escape the bonds that tied him to a chair.

And the bag sucked. It smelled like blood and sweat, and, frankly, Lucifer didn't like not being able to see what was around him.

A voice pierced what was otherwise just silence. It had a heavy British accent. Male. Maybe in his thirties or forties. It was hard to tell without being able to see him.

"Please, don't make this anymore unpleasant than it already is, Lucifer. I wanted to kill you, but they insist on keeping you alive for some absurd reason."

Lucifer didn't like being talked to like this. He didn't imagine anyone did (unless they had some weird kink or something, but now was not the time to think about that). And the only thing he could growl out was, "well, then, fuck you too." Lucifer felt no need to get caught up in formalities. He'd simply forgone all of his ability to give a shit.

Silence followed. An eerie silence. The room was either carpeted, or the man was going to great lengths to keep his footsteps quiet because he could tell his captor was no longer next to him.

And then there was pain. A blade cut through the skin and muscle of his thigh, making him yell out in pain. It was deep. It hurt like hell. As a human, this was the worst pain he'd ever felt.

The voice hissed in his ear threateningly, far less formal than before, "they said I had to keep you alive, but they didn't say anything about keeping you in one piece."

Lucifer bit his lip, trying to conceal the pained cries that wanted to escape him as he felt the blade twisted in the wound. His blunt fingernails dug white crescent-shaped indents into his palms, and his toes dug into his shoes. His entire body was tense with pain.

"Have any other snide commentary, smart one?" The voice jeered at him, mocking his position.

Lucifer went silent. Apparently, the pain could shut him up.

It was like the cage all over again. Unbearable pain, no control… locked up for all eternity. He felt pain rise in his chest, his breathing rapid and shallow, and not just because of the fact he was stabbed.

Suddenly, his mind couldn't clear of the unlivable horrors he endured within the cage's walls. He felt his entire body quaking with fear, and he could do nothing about it. Perhaps it's what humans called a panic attack? Maybe an anxiety attack? He didn't know, but he definitely knew he'd never felt so much fear before. Being human sucked.

His captor circled around him, no doubt with a large smirk of triumph. He'd gotten the devil to feel pain. To break down. It wasn't an easy task.

"That's what I thought," he gloated, finally pulling the blade from Lucifer's thigh, which, surprisingly, in his state, got no reaction, besides a sharp gasp. There was only so much you could do in so little time to break him like that.

"It's been two days! He wouldn't just wander off like that without a word! Can't you just accept the fact that someone was there with us, and they got past your oh-so-keen senses?! He was kidnapped, and we need to go after him before something bad happens!"

It was rare for Sam and Dean to argue like this, but Lucifer was a sensitive topic in every sense of the term. With everything that had happened to Sam, and the fight with Dean, and every threat since? It was hard for Sam or Dean to think entirely straight when the subject was the devil, himself.

"Sam, I would have seen something! He had to be playing with us! He knows where his grace is, and he doesn't give a damn about us! Especially not you!"

Sam shook his head with disapproval. He didn't need Lucifer to care about him, but he knew damn well that he did. At this point, he could tell Dean was just trying to get to him. But Sam refused to let him get that far. He brushed off the jab and moved on.

"I know you don't care about him, but I care about the fact something big could be going down, and it's all because you refuse to do anything about it!"

"We have no leads! No evidence, except for one drop of blood, which we can't even confirm for sure is his! What, do you think God, himself, is going to drop out of the sky and- and-"

There was suddenly silence. Sam was no longer looking at Dean, but rather staring at someone behind him. Or something, rather. Dean's first thought was that there was a giant rat behind him since they were in a shitty motel room. And by shitty, I mean, like, one star-shitty. But that's all that was nearby at the moment, so that's where they chose to go.

His second thought was that just to spite him, God had shown up to guide them. Chuck, actually. Had to call him Chuck.

Dean finally decided to turn around, coming face to face with a familiar entity. Chuck.

Chuck gave a little, awkward wave, his voice soft and calm as ever. "Hey, guys."

To be continued…