White.

White was the only color in the room. It was blinding, and it threatened a headache.

As did the smell; one of antiseptic that burned and could be felt right at the bridge of the nose.

The room was empty, save for the white, the white walls, the white ceiling, the white floors, the white sheets, the white clothes. Even the band on his arm was white, unidentifiable, blurry; surely there was identification markers there, but he couldn't- he couldn't-

He was in the corner, where is the door? He wanted to move, to go through the room, he needed—what do I need?

He grimaced, a hand to his head, that headache a jarring flash in his eyes, the white surroundings easily blending into a purely white flash before returning to the limited shadows from the light he couldn't find.

He was in the chair; there was no chair, there was no desk. He was at the desk, he was sitting there in the chair, The chair was white and there was chipping paint over the surface- wood if he had to guess. But…there had been no desk there before, I would have seen one, the room was small, I would have—There was a book on the desk. Said book was black, gaping black, taunting and begging; so, he couldn't help but reach for it. He needed to know what was inside, the contrast was so glaring, the book was like an abyss, a darkness that was a relief from the stark, sterile room.

The sudden creak of a door resounded in the quiet room that had previously held just the sound of his breath, then a cool breeze flowed like that door had been swung wide. He glanced backwards to find the exit; to see who was there, wherever there was. The searing pain was back in his head, lights growing brighter, brighter; the white was blinding, disconcerting, overwhelming-

He was sitting on the bed, hands completely empty, no book, no desk, no chair, the sheets were so bright, his clothes so white, his skin seemed so sickly pale, he felt so weak. He glanced around once more, looking for the desk, the chair, the book, but could only see the corner that he must have been. He could feel his heart and how it struggled in its beats, the slight tremor down his left arm, the twitch in his eyes.

It's so hard to think—

Another glance revealed there was no door, nothing had opened, there was nothing that could have opened, but he could still feel the subtle movement of the air, the way hair in front of his face swayed just slightly. His ears yearned for more sound, he was looking across the wall behind him, the ins and outs of his breaths resonating back to him. He could nearly swear there was another breathing pattern in the room, but there was no one here.

"Castiel." The voice was filled with a twisted glee, it felt like hands creeping over his skin, sending shivers, raking shivers and chills across his bones, through his core, through his essence as he flinched. His head whipped forward to the man in front of him. "it's been some time since we last saw each other. Really saw each other." Castiel fingers gripped tightly onto the sheets, twisting in the fabrics, as he leaned away, unable to calm the panic beating in his stomach. The blonde stood tall in front of Castiel, tilting his head as if to get a better look. There was a smile on his lips, hand reaching out and settling under his chin and against his neck, forcing Castiel's to meet the gaze of the angel in front of him.

Castiel did his best to hold that gaze as long as possible, to glare in the depths of the dark and deep eyes, but his courage diminished within seconds as the archangel's wings were flourished behind him unfurling and stretching, up, up, up, suffocating the limited room.

His eyes the only red color Castiel could see, the rest of his clothing clouded in grey and blacks, a clash he hated against the sterile white of the room. The hand under his throat didn't feel like it was alone against the ones crawling inside of his skin, or the ones threatening, tightening, and tugging his mind.

Lucifer's nails dug into his throat as he tried to maneuver away, the pain sharp and resonating as it forced unwanted eye contact with the mad glint in his eyes, "you know, taking Sammy away from me like that, so cruel. Did you think it would pay for what you've done? Well, I've been down in Hell for hundreds of thousands of years and yet when I beg for those on high, I hear no response. Little advice from your older brother, stop trying now." Castiel couldn't help the flinch away from his harsh words as spittle landed on his face from how close his brother's face was to his own. The Devil's teeth seemed to sharpen as he looked over the weak and sorry state of his broken brother in front of him who could not even begin to dispute, could not begin to talk back to the one much older, much wiser.

It's so hard to breathe, when did it get so hard to breathe, I shouldn't need to breathe- breathe, please, help-

The room was turning white, he couldn't- nothing was-

With an exaggerated frown and furrowing in his brow, Lucifer's grip loosened, his words dripping in fabricated sorrow as he sat down on the white bedding beside Castiel, "Aww, did little Cassie think he was better than me? That he could get redemption for his mistakes? I'm in Hell forever for a crime I hadn't even committed. You were there when I was cast out, and…" He trailed off, "You didn't even bat an eye, remember?"

He did, didn't he? Did-

No. No he didn't, Lucifer's blasphemy was unforgivable, it had—he had to pay, and if Hell was what it took, then Hell is where Lucifer would go.

"Then what do you deser-" It was blinding and searing pain that blotted out Lucifer's words, if it was him that was saying them at all. When Castiel's vision cleared and he could see Lucifer looking at him with a raised eyebrow, he was certain that he was still waiting for an answer to his previous line of questioning.

"You would have killed them all." Castiel managed, gaze now on the floor, rocking just slightly back and forth, back and forth, back and-

"And you nearly did." Lucifer's wing was towering behind him, he could feel the larger feathers prickling against his own, itching, but—but the down was soft, slowly wrapping around him, same as his older brother's arm, wrapping around his shoulders, "I loved our Father, and I was cast out. And you?" The Devil sighed, shaking his head and patting Castiel's shoulder, "Well, you tried to become like Dad. Tried to take His role, make His decisions. Which-" The archangel shrugged, "I certainly don't blame you, He left us, brought you back—what were you meant to do but become the next 'me'." Castiel's gaze flicked to the brother who was tugging him against his side, the dark wings pressing against his other side, the suffocating in his lungs returning as Lucifer's form was highlighted in red, eyes still glimmering unnaturally and tinting the white sheets in their color. "I taught you-"

No.

No. That's wrong. Castiel's brow furrowed, the white so blinding in his vision, hand moving back to rub against his eyes to relieve the tension.

Sam.

Visions.

Echoes, it's just an echo, its just-

Castiel grimaced as the ache eased away, opening his eyes back to the sterile room, the white still so blinding but manageable as he glanced to his left, where instead of pressed against his side, Lucifer was sprawled across the bed, wings splayed carelessly beside him, the bed was tinted red, red, red- "I taught Gabriel, who then trained you; So really it's the same thing, don't you think?"

"No." Castiel whispered softly, "It's not the same."

It's…

It's…

Something's wrong, something's really wrong.

Knock.

Knock.

Castiel's head whipped around, trying to find the point of entry once more, the same creaking of a door, but there was no door, where's the door, there must be a door. The sound of breathing reached his ears again, there was such different patterns, they weren't his own, they couldn't be his own—

Lucifer was sitting up, close to his face a sarcastic look of concern on his face as he reached up and ruffled Castiel's hair, the messy locks falling into his vision. His breath creeped down Castiel's neck, his hair standing up on end as he looked into the glaring, shining red eyes.

"It's a real shame you took me from Sammy, huh?" Lucifer's voice oozed with taunting smoothness and lyrical quality, "I mean, you don't even get the release of death. Sammy? He'd have died today, or tomorrow, or yesterday—whose keeping track of the days in here?" Lucifer's contemplative expression transformed into certainty as he tapped Castiel's forehead, causing him to flinch. "Certainly not you. And well…" he shrugged nonchalantly, tone dripping with malicious intent, "I guess we both know that I would find someway to bring Sammy back; he's too fun to keep around. Think this would be too easy a death for him—"

Castiel couldn't help the spike in his chest, anger and desperation overtaking his wavering voice and forcing him to look at his fallen brother in his eyes, "You will not touch a single hair on hi-"

"On his precious little head, yes, we've been through this before, Castiel." The archangel shrugged with zero trepidation, "But, you never seem to uphold on your threats, do you? You try, of course you try and I suppose I can give you some sort of credit for that, but I, and everyone else for that matter, we're always one step ahead, aren't we?"

Castiel's grip on the sheets tightened, clenching his fists, as the weight of the tension increased, only furthered by what sounded like by what sounded like multiple people in the room, but there wasn't— it was just him and Lucifer, and what was he supposed to do, how was he going to—

"Easy there, Castiel." Lucifer's arm was back to being wrapped around him, the cold, creeping touch send shivers racing up and down against his skin. When Lucifers left palm pressed against his chest, he tried to tear himself away from the grasp, but the devil's claws dug into his flesh to keep him still, one giant wing wrapping him right and the other spread out in a might display— Castiel's wings would barely reach a third of Lucifer's magnitude. The fallen angel's halo was completely shattered and visible, the whole room flickering and flashing in dark, deep reds— his eyes blazing of Hellfire, skin searing and healing within seconds— eyes sometimes becoming dark and gaping holes—

The cracking of glass shattering punctuated the sudden darkness they were thrown into, ice cold pinpricks across his skin and he flew from his brother's grasp, diving into the floor and ramming his back against the wall, burrowing his head in his arms—breathing erratic as he clutched on tight to his skin, glass falling to the floor from his hair.

Where did the glass come from, there was no glass, there was no— Castiel's eyes searched madly in the depths of the darkness, biting his lip and holding his breath, trying to determine where his elder brother resided.

He felt the soft trickle of blood down his arms, but he couldn't investigate, no, not when—

not when—

…not when?

The only sound back to his ears was his breathing.

It's an echo.

"Come on, Castiel…"

It's an echo—it's an echo—

What's an echo?

"Castiel~" The voice was a song, the voice Lucifer prided himself on, the one that sung louder than the rest of the heavenly hosts, it was smoother than honey how it slid and reverberated down the room; the black abyss turning a dark scarlet.

The angel couldn't do anything but watch as blood—the same color as the room—leaked from wounds; wounds made from the glass sticking out from them, some longer shards, and other tiny, crumbled pieces of the shattered material.

Castiel's heart raced as he stared at the bleeding wounds, the confusion surging through him as he watched his skin stitch itself back together, yet he could still feel the pain in the recesses of his mind. The room pulsated with the eerie red glow, the silhouette of Lucifer on the far wall, wings spread wide.

It's.. an echo.

"Lucifer," Castiel managed to say through gritted teeth, his voice shaking but filled with determination as he tore a piece of glass from his flesh, "This… this isn't real. You're not here."

Lucifer is in the cage.
Sam Winchester put him in the cage—

Lucifer's mocking laughter echoed through the room, a cacophony that grated against Castiel's senses. "Oh, Castiel, my dear brother, always the optimist—"

"He's right, Luci."

In an instant, the room transformed into a golden glow, a gentle warmth replacing the previous cold. It embraced Castiel like a protective blanket, radiating safety.

The laughter that followed carried the same warmth, seeping into the depths of Castiel's chest. Though he couldn't yet locate the source, the newcomer's presence brought comfort. "You're old news, big bro."

Snap.

The snap echoed through the room, dissipating the remnants of red clinging to the walls and banishing the shadows. The once-sterile white walls returned, bathed in a softer, dimmer light.

"I've always wanted to do that." The voice filled with laughter declared as its owner stepped through the doorway. A radiant glow surrounded his silhouette, casting a golden aura. A mischievous smirk played on his face as he adjusted his grey attire with a wink.

"Hey there, little bro."

Gabriel.