A/N: Alright, I apologize for this. This is kind of a sudden thing, and I'm sorry for this random new story instead of an update on Valerian Nights. That should be up soonish. In the mean time, enjoy the prologue to my newest story. It should be plently angsty, but it does have its fluffy moments (or at least, I want it to have them). Its's Lucifer-centric, and I'm almost 100% sure that there will be Samifer. Maybe. Or Sabriel. Or Sabrifer. I haven't decided yet. Warnings will be posted if needed. Those sensitive to violence should probably avoid this. Without further adieu, the new story.

The pain was unbearable. The clawing, needling feeling that scratched through his chest left him breathless and cold. The blood that dripped down into dulled blue eyes was forgotten as he focused on what little will to live was left within him. He telescoped his hand, so pale against the dirty cement floor of the panic room. He HAD to reach the other form. Why? He couldn't remember. But he knew if he didn't get there in time, it would all be over. So, raising himself to his hands and knees, he began the tortuous crawl to the other fallen man. He paused, however, when a whole new wave of pain raced through his veins like the quickest type of poison. Turning his head, ignoring the feeling of blood, tight and drying against his skin, he saw what was causing the new agony he felt. Limp and lifeless, six pale white wings, dyed crimson with blood, not all of it his, were stretched out, their feathers bent and broken, laying on the floor, completely useless. He looked them over, momentarily stopping his journey to his dying (or dead, his traitorous mind whispered to him) friend. The source of the pain was spotted quickly. Metal rings in the bone of his wings, some with chains still attached to him. That could wait, he told himself, wondering for the umpteenth time since he had awoken, what could have possibly happened to him. As he began to move forward, ignoring the way his broken wings dragged against the shattered glass, and his hands and knees began to bleed, the fresh cut pinpricks of pain when compared to the foreign, strange feeling that was burrowing its poisonous way to his core, intent on killing him.

The yards between him and the motionless body before him seemed like the longest distance he'd ever had to brave. A few scant feet before his journey would be over, his legs finally gave out, and he fell to the floor, a large sliver of glass embedding itself into his leg, making the broken man exhale a pained breath, too tired to scream. Not now, he thought, and tried to get back up, but his legs refused to work. He knew that there wasn't much time left, and so he painstakingly dragged himself forward, ignoring the pull of glass and the screaming agony of his muscles, knowing if he stopped that he wouldn't be able to start again. Finally, he reached the other body. and nearly began to laugh. He could see it, the faintest rise and fall of the other's chest. The amnesic man reached out his hand, and laid it on the unconscious one's chest, and barely had the strength to start when the hazel eyed man woke up and grabbed his arms, cut and bleeding as he forced out each of his tormented breaths.

"Lucifer? Lucifer! What happened?!" The taller man looked so worried, and then, the winged man, now known to be Lucifer, gave a smile, because he had figured out what his purpose was. His Father did have such a poetic sense of humor.

No longer able to hold himself up, Lucifer collapsed against Sam's side, ignoring the other's shout of surprise as he hauled himself into a sitting position. The former archangel turned his head to level blue eyes at his beautiful vessel, "The war is over," he said quietly, his voice nothing more than a harsh whisper, unable to raise the strength to speak any louder. Lucifer opened his mouth to say something else, but, as he started to speak, he felt the poison reach his heart. The needling pain came back, and the fallen angel knew that the precious time his Father had given him was up. Unable to do anything else, he lifted his hand, shaky and pale, and laid it against Sam's tanned cheek. Then, his eyes dulled, and the hand fell back to the cement floor.

Sam's shouts went unheard as the lifeless archangel slipped away.