I am quite possibly incapable of writing anything happy. And apparently have a deeply-repressed desire to see Castiel Fall.

Disclaimer; I do not own Supernatural, nor any of the characters, ideas, concepts, or other materials within.

Warnings for blasphemy, totally inaccurate biblical accounts, and torture.

Summary: Instead of being left to Ruby, Castiel is taken to a secret location and twisted to Lucifer's purpose...

Pity on the Devil, an Angel of the Lord

"Aren't you a peculiar thing?"

The words echoed in Castiel's mind as he waited in the darkness. The bare, stone-walled room was only illuminated by the flickering light of holy fire, throwing the Enochian sigils on the wall into stark relief. Some were sigils to stop an angel from flight, he saw - others to weaken Grace, and stop communication; and there were some he didn't recognize at all, which made sense. Archangels were much more educated in such matters than lowly footsoldiers.

He recalled conversing with his brother in the warehouse. Lucifer had done - something - to knock him unconscious; and Castiel had been left, alone, in the dark. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed with his powers blocked; he hoped that the Winchesters and Harvelles had been able to safely stop the summoning of Death, but he had an itching sense that they hadn't.

"Good, you're awake."

Castiel was startled by the voice, twisitng around to see the devil striding through the door. Unsettled, he realized that he hadn't even been able to sense the Morninstar's Grace; what was being done to him?

"You look worried, little brother." Lucifer smiled, a genial, be-at-ease smile that only made his features seem all the more ominous.

"What happened?"

Lucifer's smile vanished. "The Winchesters are alive, if that's what you're wondering - though the human females were not quite as fortunate."

Castiel bowed his head, briefly, a blessing forming in his head automatically. At least they were at peace in Heaven, he thought, but their loss was a cause of sorrow nonetheless.

"You... mourn them? Those humans?" Lucifer pronounced mourn as though he were tasting the word for the first time.

"They were friends."

"I see." It was clear he did not. "...Oh, Castiel... What a sad thing you are. An angel without Grace, mucking about with humans..."

"I have not Fallen yet."

"'Yet' being the key word. But you will; you know it. But, Castiel... There are different ways to Fall. You can forsake your Grace entirely... or you can join me."

Lucifer began to pace around Castiel's circle, all the grace of some feline predator, his eyes tracing Castiel as though sizing up a purchase. "Heaven has been corrupted, Little Brother; you know it. It is why you rebelled. Together we can fight to bring it to peace again."

"You do not bring Peace, Lucifer. And why do you desire my help?" Castiel eyed the devil. "How could I possibly benefit you?"

"Is being Family not reason enough?" Lucifer seemed honestly hurt.

"You seemed to have no compunctions with killing Family during the last War."

"Then in that, it seems, we are the same." Castiel flinched. Lucifer stopped pacing, and stood squarely in front of Castiel.

"You will not reconsider?"

"I would rather die, Lucifer, than ever join you."

"Oh, it won't come to that. I have other plans for you, Castiel - and you shall beg to join me before long."

Lucifer was the first angel.

This is known; but it is not understood. Lucifer was witness to the creation of all his brothers - something that could not be said by even the other archangels. No angel knew the words said at his own creation, unless told by one who had been witness; and for Lucifer, there was no witness.

But Lucifer Watched as Michael was brought forth from the ether, bright and glorious, and Father said, "This my son, the Archangel of protection; and he shall be a leader among his kind, and go by the name of Michael."

Micheal blinked into existence, flaming sword in hand. He flew beside Lucifer, and Watched.

"This is my son, the Archangel messenger; and he shall spread my word and will, and sound the horns of war, and go by the name of Gabriel."

Gabriel appeared, great and shining, holding his polished horn aloft in the air. He flew beside Lucifer, and Watched.

"This is my son, the Archangel of healing, and he shall bring comfort and wellness to my earthly children, and go by the name of Raphael."

Raphael appeared, less bright than the others but still mighty, and joined them, and Watched.

Some of the duties were interesting, with angels being assigned specific roles, and Lucifer Watched them all.

"This is my son, the angel who shall punish those who dare transgress against me, and go by the name of Camael."

"This is my son, the angel who shall help guide the hand of Fate, and go by the name of Uriel."

"This is my son, the angel of light who shall praise my name and burn too brightly too look upon, and go by the name Seraphiel."

"This is my son, the angel who shall be my scribe and Voice, and go by the name of Metatron."

The archangels were the only angels permitted to watch the entire naming, but it was not required. Even immortal and patient beings such as they could become bored, especially when so new to life and Creation. Raphael was the first to leave, after the creation of the Seraphim but before even all the Dominions could be declared.

The Ophanim came next, and then the Cherubim, and when the last Cherub was named Michael, too, grew tired and left. And then there were two.

Gabriel was fidgety, but watched the creation of his brothers with intense interest - at least until the malakhim.

The malakhim were the largest group of angels - and, frankly, the most boring to see named. Lucifer could understand their collective importance, and respect them, but they were nevertheless all the same.

"This is my son, an angel who shall be sword and shield to Heaven, and carry out my will, and he shall go by the name Elliel."

"This is my son, an angel who shall be sword and shield to Heaven, and carry out my will, and he shall go by the name Williel."

"This is my son, an angel who shall be sword and shield to Heaven, and carry out my will, and he shall go by the name Feressiel."

"This is my son, an angel who shall be sword and shield to Heaven, and carry out my will, and he shall go by the name Torenniel."

Halfway through, even Gabriel could stand it no longer. The messenger of God abruptly turned and winged away, and only Lucifer and Father remained.

Lucifer felt that he might as well finish watching the last of his brethren born, but the long litany of names wearied him. He was just considering leaving when Father's speech suddenly changed.

"And this is my son, the last angel." Lucifer perked up. "He shall be a sword and shield to Heaven, and carry out my purpose; and he shall not meet me, but shall most closely know my will." This was different. "He shall be most like to Man, and learn from them, and gain eventually free will; and with that freedom he shall decide the fates of nations, and of Heaven itself, which may one day bow before his name."

Lucifer's wings flapped excitedly, and God finished; "And he shall go by the name Castiel."

When Lucifer joined the other angels, he found that most other's Origins had been explained already by the other archangels; and through Gabriel the purpose of all the malakhim was already known, and so none of them asked Lucifer for the words of their birth.

Lucifer watched Castiel join the ranks of the malakhim, a faceless soldier with average Grace - and though he knew not why, he said nothing.

It never ended.

They strung him up, black-eyed wraiths with feral smiles, and tore at his body with oily weapons of sin and brimstone, each cut and lash a drop of poison, despair. It stung and burnt and hurt, in a way angels were never meant to hurt, and before long his vessel's throat was raw from screaming.

Even these poisonous devil-blades couldn't kill him, but his healing powers were weak; before long the angel was a bloodied, skinless mass of quivering flesh amid haunting sigils and holy fire, with laughing demons literally gnawing at his ankles, tickling his bare flesh, pulling out intestines and squeezing.

And then from the doorway there came a light, so bright and beautiful and glorious that his breath caught, and the demons, mercy of mercies, fell away. For a moment Castiel just stared at it in awe, fogginess and the mist of pain bleeding away as he drank in the beauty and righteousness of the form. Then he realized what he was looking at.

"Little brother," said the devil. "It pains me to see you like this."

A step, another; cool fingers brushed his red-stained cheek, a touch not of fire but of Grace, and suddenly the pain was gone. His skin was whole and white and unmarred, his head clear, his breath pure and easy. Castiel stared at Lucifer.

"That's better. Have you reconsidered, Castiel?"

Castiel found his voice. Though his body was hale again, it shook slightly. "I will never join you, Lucifer."

Satan smiled sadly, and it seemed there was real regret in his features, a face of tragedy so old and sorrowful that it might make a stranger weep in sympathy, and against his will Castiel felt his heart strain. "Then I am sorry, Brother."

The devil vanished, and the demons came forth again.

Sometimes, Lucifer wondered what had been said at his creation.

There was no way of knowing, of course. He saw Father but rarely, and even then God would never tell him; God was annoyingly cryptic that way. Even so, Lucifer wondered. Did he have a true, fated purpose, or was he just made to be obedient, to love? To fight, to praise, to... what? Was he like the hordes of faceless malakhim, or the ever-dutiful Seraphim?

Somehow Lucifer didn't think so. He was the First, after all, and an archangel besides. In a way, perhaps the mystery gave him his own splendour - the only angel whose fate hadn't been foretold.

(Castiel's was not known to anyone else, either, but in time he forgot this almost entirely).

Lucifer was surely the greatest of all the angels; he accepted this as a fact, as his brethren did. He wondered if perhaps his Purpose was too great to be known; maybe there was something in the journey that couldn't be given away too soon.

Whatever the reason, he trusted his father. He trusted the Plan. God was, after all, omniscient and all-powerful; Lucifer had no reason for Doubt.

And then, the humans.

The were such tiny things, mortal and insignificant; less appealing even then the curious and fascinating lifeforms Father had created on that world called Earth, because these creatures were parasites of the worst sort. They destroyed all they came into contact with. They lived short, dumb lives, and had the potential to spread like some terrible virus, creating chaos and destruction for Father's Work as they went.

Lucifer didn't understand their purpose, and he refused to love those foul, lesser things as Father demanded. They were animals, and he would no more bow before them than the snakes and ferns of Earth. When he learned of the making of the first humans, and foresaw what destruction they would bring, there was only one possible path.

So he went to Eden, a paradise of Heaven wasted on mortals. He was let through without question, for was he not the most faithful of his Father's children? And from inside he took the form of a snake, a lizard-like creature, and went before the First Woman. There were other humans on Earth, he knew, but these two were Father's favorites, and the only ones who had as yet received special instructions from Him. He would prove to Father the folly of loving these creatures above his own, loyal angels.

(Maybe this was his purpose, Lucifer thought, making Father see reason when others would not dare. That God was Ineffable did not occur to him).

So Lucifer tempted the daughter of Eden, and she bit the apple from the forbidden tree, and in wrath God struck them from Eden; so humans were declared to be sinful and tainted. Lucifer was joyous. Then the form of the snake was punished to be without legs, and Lucifer himself was chastised, and humiliated, and he accepted his punishment obediently.

But, again, Father demanded he bow to the humans, demanded he offer them love, and Lucifer was aghast.

Of course he argued, of course he fought! He loved his father, his brothers, but it was not in him to love these creatures. Was that so wrong?

Apparently.

Am I not as God created me? He wondered. Shall I be punished for sins that were made in me at Creation?

Is this my Purpose?

Lucifer gained support, but not enough, and Michael - his beloved brother, closest to him in Grace and power and thought - struck him from Heaven with his flaming sword, while Gabriel's horn rang out in glory and triumph and sorrow, and Raphael flitted to and fro, tending to the dying immortals with stricken grief that would later harden him.

And Lucifer Fell to his prison. But even from the Cage he had power of a sort, at first, and he wrought Hell and fashioned his demons from the first of his angelic followers, who would in turn go on to fashion demons from sinful humans who were also barred from Heaven.

There was, he thought, a cruel irony in that.

"O Father, hear my prayer..."

Castiel's rasp was cut off by a blood-filled cough, and the demons laughed, laughed, laughed in his face.

"He praying to Daddy," they jeered. "Look, look, the little angel's praying to Daddy!"

"Why, he's praying to me, is he?"

The demons fell away, fell silent, and Castiel opened his eyes automatically, eyes seeking out the wonderous flare of light like a man in a desert seeking water.

And then that light, lovely touch, and pain fell away, too. Castiel took a shaky breath in the brief respite, for he knew what was coming.

"Have you reconsidered, Brother?"

Castiel's eyes frantically drank in all the Light he could.

"Brother?"

Castiel licked his crack lips. "I - will never join you, Lucifer."

And the light was gone.

Outside, Lucifer wondered. Only God had seen his Creation; and only the two of them watched Castiel's. Did that make him, in a fashion, the father of Castiel? What if he fashioned Castiel into something new, something more glorious? Would that erase Father's taint? He thought so.

The screams that sounded behind him seemed to agree.

Lucifer watched humans from the Cage throughout the millenia, whispering through the cracked places of the earth to sow seeds of sin and doubt. He laughed when the 'righteous' were tempted, each a new testament to Lucifer's original thinking. Were not humans flawed, and weak, and base? Each was individual proof of Lucifer's righteousness. He would not repent; Father must be the first to do that.

Some even worshipped him, which was even more delicious. He didn't care for humans, after all, but these weak things seemed to think their pandering would buy his favor. Foolish, but useful. But Lucifer did not like blasphemy; there was a special place in Hell set aside for his mortal followers, more dark and miserable than even the rest.

So the king of Deceit spent the eons Whispering blasphemy and hating it, and tempting godly men and scorning them. He was weeding the weakest from Heaven, and was that not just? Was it not a boon to his Father? And yet the angels cursed him, his true brothers, and so many died...

It pained him, their deaths. But they had made their own choices, and he his. Everything else must follow.

Lucifer wondered if this was his purpose.

There was darkness and boiling water and sulfur in the air, pouring down his throat, choking him. Castiel gagged up bloody froth and wheezed past aching lungs to scream as flesh was peeled from bones and those bones twisted and cracked and burnt -

And then light, beautiful and glorious, and the relief that he felt was wrong, wrong, wrong, but why? What could be so bad about this lovely, beautiful, merciful light -

And then the pain was gone, and he remembered.

"Have you reconsidered, Brother?"

Castiel bit his lip until it wept blood anew, but he could not bear to look away from the Light.

The silence dragged on.

"...I will never join you, Lucifer."

Darkness.

Lucifer thought about Castiel, sometimes.

'which may one day bow before his name.' He had free will, too, or would. Did that mean Father wouldn't punish the littlest angel if he rebelled? The thought rankled. But something else occurred to him;

"...and with that freedom he shall decide the fates of nations, and of Heaven itself..."

But what decision would he make?

Lucifer had heard that Father had disappeared from Heaven; he hadn't been seen from centuries. So Lucifer was the only one with any inkling of Castiel's potential. He wondered if maybe Castiel had been killed in any of the wars. It probably wouldn't reach Lucifer's ears, the death of a single, faceless malakhim, and for some reason when the thought occurred it made him irrationally angry.

(He may, possibly, have started the Crusades that day).

"Please, please, Father, stop them..."

A touch of Holy Oil to his tongue, and dash of brimstone, and the pleas turned to feral shrieks of pain, his pained swaying to writhes of agony. Fire erupted from his mouth, his eyes, rubbing at the edges of his torn Grace, and it hurt...

And then there was light.

"Have you reconsidered, Brother?"

Castiel fought not to weep, and it was a losing fight. "I will never join you, Lucifer!"

And then he screamed again...

While waiting for Castiel to be broken down once more, Lucifer heard a prayer.

"O Father, Son, and they Holy Spirit, Michael and Gabriel, Raphael and Samael, hear my prayers..."

- and Lucifer laughed, for how could he not? Listening to the prayers of a devout Christian, praying to Father and Michael and Gabriel and Raphael... and Samael, Lucifer, without even realizing.

Humans.

What could he do but oblige?

So Lucifer winged to Georgia (he laughed again) and found that the man was alone in an empty mansion, staring morosely into the fire as sad music played in the background.

Pathetic.

It was an old man, bedraggled and mournful. He had sky-colored eyes, red-rimmed with fatigue and the sting of old tears. Deep, sorrowful lines made his face heavy. Wisps of white hair played around his head and cheeks, and his blue-veined hands were clenched around an old copy of the Bible, that false work of drunk humans, as he wept quietly before the fire.

"What is wrong, good Sir?"

The man gasped, twisting as quickly as he could. Sparing him the trouble, Lucifer strolled in front of the fire, smiling with false geniality.

"Who are you?" The old man rasped.

"You prayed for me, did you not?"

The human's eyes went round.

"I am Samael."

A dark wind blew into the room; against the black wall, six arcs of lightning were thrown against the wall in stark relief, and the man gasped in awed amazement.

"Samael," he said, with wonder. "Oh, Lord..."

Yes. "Not quite," Lucifer said, aloud. "Wby did you call me, my... child."

Not willing to pass up this shocking opportunity, the awed man collected himself. "It's - it's my grandchildren, my lord. My grandchildren, they - they were lost to me, you see, killed by some crazy devil-worshipper..." Lucifer hid a smile "and I - it's not right, Sir, it isn't, for an old man to live while such kids die..."

"What would you have me do?"

The old man looked at him, pleadingly. "Can't... can't you bring 'em back?"

Lucifer considered the man. He sat. "I have a test for you, good human, a test of sacrifice. Do you want to hear it?"

"Yes, oh, yes! Anything!"

"Then let us make a deal..."

Lucifer returned with a shiny, pious soul, and left two undead children behind; and he laughed.

"Stop, stop, please, anything..."

"What, no weeping for daddy?" a demon mocked.

The angel, weeping tears of diamonds, didn't hear him.

And then the Sun joined them, and the demons retreated.

"Have you reconsidered, Brother?"

The pain left, but Castiel wept, and said nothing.

"Brother?"

"Why?" Castiel's vessel took a deep, shuddering, totally unecessary breath. "Why, Brother? I don't... I don't..."

"Oh, Castiel..." Lucifer sighed, stepped forward. A cool hand reached out to touch the malakhim's fire-scorched one, and the young angel sobbed anew. "Why do you put yourself through this? It pains me, Little Brother..." And sorrow was there, etched in his face. "I do not want you hurt... End this, please. I am trying to make you see reason; all you need to do is say the word..."

Castiel's body trembled.

"Brother?"

"...I...no."

"I am sorry, Brother."

And the Light went out.

"I love my family, you know? I truly, truly do."

The captured angel - Enumiel, he was called - panted as he stared at the devil with terror. "Have mercy," he blurted.

He was a malakhim, but he was not Castiel.

"I love all of my family," Lucifer repeated. "Raphael, Michael, even Gabriel... They loved, but not enough, you understand? I watched all of your births. All of them. I even saw you creation, Enumiel.

"This is my son, an angel who shall be sword and shield to Heaven, and carry out my will, and he shall go by the name Enumiel."

"Your birth was boring," the devil added. Enumiel trembled.

Lucifer stared at his brother, one of a million, and he saw a stranger.

(Not Castiel...)

A blade drawn, a thrust, a spill of Grace, and it was over.

Castiel wasn't even begging.

He knew it would end; it didn't seem like it, but it would. So he focused on Light, on the memory of the Light, and at first, he didn't beg.

But the memory was distant, and the pain real, and finally the screams turned to struggling gasps, and again, "Please, please, please..."

This time, he wasn't begging for Father.

When he saw the Light, his tears were of relief, and he clung to the Grace that healed him like a dying man.

Then, the voice.

"Have you reconsidered, Brother?"

"..."

"Brother?"

"...No."

It was a lie, and they both knew it, and when the lie made the Light leave Castiel couldn't remember why he didn't just tell the truth.

Before his Fall, Lucifer liked to sing.

As with most things Lucifer took a liking to, he was the best. He was the minister of the Heavenly Choir during his time there. All the crafts of music were his masterpieces. Of his work were violas and cellos, the harp and the song of the voice, and it was he who fashioned the first songs of praise for the Lord. Father had been well pleased by this, and praised His prideful son in front of the Host, saying, "The work of the Morninstar has brought new glory and beauty to Heaven."

Lucifer hated the brash crashing and growling that accompanied music made in his own name, the dark whispers and hisses that his idiot followers thought were proper. But one of the first things he'd done upon leaving the Cage was to attend Church one Sunday morning and listen to the songs, and as he waited for Castiel to break he did so again.

A church was hallowed ground, but was he not an archangel? And so Lucifer entered, and sat, and listened.

(He gave out candy to a few children as he waited for the service to begin, and he smiled, and later that Sunday those children would die, Hallelujah and Amen.)

The sermon amused him, and the Sin he saw on each soul in the room even moreso. But he wasn't here for that. He'd come for the music.

And, oh, what music! The weak harmony of a hundred untrained, human voices was nothing like the Choirs of Heaven, but it sufficed. The message and the main chorus was enough, and he closed his eyes as he stood, opening his mouthing and joining his Praises with theirs, letting just enough Grace shine through that the modest church halls rang with reminiscent glory, and shone.

When the songs finished he opened his eyes. Some of those closest to him had stopped singing early on, and were eyeing him with wonder. He smiled.

Later, he came back and burnt the church.

Lucifer returned, and by Hell-time Castiel had been Below for ninety-three years.

When the Light pierced shadow this final time, Castiel looked up, and a broken, loving smile creased his face. Tears fell from his eyes, unheeded, and he spoke before Lucifer could.

"My Brother... please..."

And the devil smiled. "Have you reconsidered, Brother?"

"Yes."

The chains fell.

And this, the devil knew suddenly, was his purpose.

Misery loves company

And company loves more

More loves everybody else

But hell is others

-Emilie Autumn, 'Misery Loves Company'