There was an odd tension in the cabin in the days following. Though Lucifer didn't change the way he interacted with Sarah, every once in awhile she'd catch him giving her an odd look from the corner of her eye—something between curiosity and disgust. But he never said anything about it, and when he saw her watching he'd quickly look away with a shake of his head, so she didn't call him out on it. She guessed it had to do with her outpouring of weak human emotions, or something, but that he was refraining from telling her how much it disgusted him in case his rejection of her friendship provoked some bout of grief.

When Sarah woke a week later from bittersweet dreams to the ache of grief, she managed to stop herself before she could surrender completely to her own misery. She spent a good few minutes curled in bed, breathing deep, calming breaths before sliding from bed and padding down the dark hallway to the kitchen. She put a kettle on for tea, less because she wanted it than because it was still the middle of the night and she needed something to do to distract herself.

Eyes bleary and wondering how much milk and honey was acceptable to put into a single cup of tea, Sarah jumped when a loud sigh sounded behind her.

Lucifer looked tired, but not irritated, which Sarah cautiously interpreted as a good sign. "Sorry if I woke you." Sarah felt a little absurd apologizing. Dealing with grief was trying enough without wondering if her emotional turmoil was inconveniencing someone else. "Uh. Tea?"

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at the cup in her hands. "Is there any tea in that cup?"

Sarah glanced down. It was mostly milk and honey. "Shut up."

Lucifer brushed by her to pull down another mug, standing close as he poured still-hot water from the kettle and added a tea bag. Sarah edged away a little, wondering if a lack of understanding of appropriate personal space was an angel thing or just a Lucifer thing.

"If I ask you a question, do you promise not to start crying?" Lucifer asked, shooting her a measuring look while his tea steeped. He seemed to have asked in good humor, though, and not mockery, so Sarah shrugged and nodded. "What made him so special?"

Suddenly Sarah felt much more awake. She sipped her sweet, milky tea as she sorted through the emotions that question triggered. "You mean Isaac."

"Yes." Lucifer was looking at her with genuine curiosity. Sarah got the feeling he was being intentionally non-threatening, a level of effort that surprised her.

"He was… kind." Sarah said at last. "Truly kind, not just polite. Most people, when they ask how you are, they're just being polite. But he always meant it. He remembered the little details of people's lives, and he cared." Sarah sipped her tea. A part of her felt a deep sense of peace, to be talking about him alive, instead of his death. "He was thoughtful. Passionate about the things he was interested in."

Lucifer frowned into his tea. "But imperfect."

Sarah laughed. "Oh yeah." Lucifer raised his eyebrows at the reaction, and Sarah grinned. "Complete scatterbrain. He'd remember the topic a coworker's cousin's friend's dissertation, but forget our anniversary. Start a load of laundry and forget it in the washer until it started to smell. He'd start doing one thing and get distracted, he left his things all over the place. He couldn't spell for the life of him, and he was almost completely out of touch with his own emotions."

Lucifer looked lost. "And you loved him?"

Sarah tilted her head to the side, assessing him. "Do you really not understand how I could? Are angels so different?" Lucifer looked away, face growing dark. Sarah decided not to press. "Yes. I loved him."

It rained heavily all through the next day, a cold rain that smelled like winter. Sarah lit a fire in the fireplace early in the morning and kept it lit through the day, alternating between reading and sipping coffee or cocoa, savoring the luxury of being so warm on a day so cold. Lucifer spent much of the day with his bible, muttering and scribbling in the margins.

Sarah looked up from a dog-eared novel when Lucifer scoffed loudly. "Oh, did not!" Sarah guessed he'd reached a portion that had him in it. Which was… extremely odd to think about, still.

"Hey, Lucifer?" He glanced at her, scowl melting a little. "Would you let me read that? When you're done?"

Lucifer grinned a crooked grin. It transformed his face in a way his mocking smiles didn't. "You want to?"

"Of course I want to," Sarah said immediately. "You literally know how it actually happened. And it'll be refreshing to read it and get a more…" Sarah searched for the right word for a moment. "Realistic perspective."

Lucifer's smile reached his eyes, but there was mischief in it. "Go ahead." He tossed her the bible. Sarah dropped her own book hastily and scrambled to catch it. She learned the reason behind the mischief when she cracked it open.

"What language even is this?" She asked, staring at the bizarre scribbles. The letters were unlike anything she'd ever seen before.

"Enochian." Lucifer stood from the couch, stretching and sighing when his spine gave a few satisfying pops. "Angel language."

"Angels have their own language?" Lucifer seemed amused by the excitement and amazement in her voice. He nodded. "Would you say something in it?"

Lucifer's smile lost some of its humor. "With a human tongue? No. It wouldn't sound right."

Sarah sighed, disappointed, and held the book back out to him. "You might as well keep this, then."

Lucifer accepted it slowly, watching Sarah carefully. With a sigh, he flopped back onto the couch and flipped it open to the first pages. "In the beginning there was a lot more than just Dad…"

Lucifer read a bit every night from then on. Though 'reading' was a loose description. Often the text itself would be abandoned as Lucifer detailed the workings of heaven, told stories about other angels, or answered Sarah's questions about the creation of the world. These were clearly happy memories for Lucifer, but bittersweet, considering what came after. He largely skipped over the subject of his fall, and though Sarah was deeply curious about the details, she refrained from asking about it.

She was amazed and grateful that he even chose to share what he did—and she rather thought he enjoyed it, too. She supposed he wasn't really used to having someone want to listen to him and hear his perspective. Sarah wasn't a demon serving him or an angel opposing him… just a friend.

After a few weeks, Lucifer settled onto one end of the couch, stretching his feet out to encroach on Sarah's space, and cracked open the bible to pick up where he'd left off. He stared at the page for a long moment, then abruptly snapped it shut.

Sarah blinked, puzzled, and set down her glass of wine. "What, no story time?"

Lucifer put his hands vertically against his mouth thoughtfully, as if in prayer. "We've caught up."

"We're finished?" Sarah glanced at the book. There were still some pages left before the end.

Lucifer followed her line of sight with his eyes. "That would be Revelations."

"The Apocalypse stuff?" Sarah paused. "Wait, caught up?"

Lucifer gave her a dry look. "Well, when we last left our hero," he gestured grandly to himself, "he was locked in a box in Hell. How'd you think I got out?"

"I dunno, God?"

That startled a bitter laugh out of Lucifer. "No. No, Sam Winchester, the larger of the two idiots who broke into the cabin, broke me out. Accidentally, but still. Kind of a long story."

Sarah picked up her glass of wine again. "Well? Let's hear it."

Lucifer frowned, all humor leaving his eyes. "I'm not sure I should tell you."

Sarah studied his face, wondering what could be behind his sudden hesitation. "Why not?"

"And here I thought you were smart." The barb was a little flat. Lucifer's shoulders seemed to be drawing up defensively. "Did you never wonder why those two flannel-wearing barbarians tried to kill me?" At Sarah's blank look, he 'tsk'ed impatiently. "It's not just because I'm the devil. It's personal."

He brought a hand to his lips. Usually Sarah interpreted this as a thoughtful gesture, but this time she thought it might just be a sign of nerves. "I have done… terrible things. I've killed people." He spoke frankly, almost clinically. "Lots of people. Recently. And i don't regret it."

He studied her silently for a moment, trying to gage her reaction to that. Sarah was frozen. "You are stuck with me. Probably for a long time, possibly forever. Do you really want to see all the skeletons in my very large, very old closet?"

Sarah considered it. It was a fair question. She'd seen only a glimpse of Lucifer's attitude towards humanity in general, and he'd told her outright that the only reason she was alive was because he didn't have the power to kill her and come away alive himself. But Lucifer was right: they were stuck together, possibly forever. Sarah didn't think she could live with him for months or years without knowing the full story. And...

And he was asking her if she wanted to hear it. A question, not a warning. Sarah wanted to hear it, and she suspected he needed to tell it. Sarah gulped a fortifying sip of wine and nodded.

"Let's hear it."

And she did. Lucifer told her about the scheme to bring about the Apocalypse, rising from the pit, slaughtering an entire town… all of it. It was hard to listen to. Lucifer spoke for hours, and Sarah peppered him with questions about why he did one thing or other. At the end of it all, she didn't know what to do, how to react.

Pat him on the arm and say it's okay? That he's forgiven, that they're still friends? None of that was true. Well, she was still his friend. But what he'd done wasn't okay, and she didn't know if he could be forgiven. She didn't know if he even wanted to be.

And if he wasn't sorry, what then? Sarah found it hard to condemn him. Maybe he'd just grown on her over time, but she didn't think that was it. It was just… hard to judge Lucifer. By human standards, what he'd done was unforgivable. But Sarah didn't really think judging him by human standards was fair. He wasn't human, after all.

And while he said he didn't feel regret, Sarah thought he must feel something besides satisfaction over his actions, or he never would have been so hesitant to share it with Sarah in the first place

Maybe if she was a good person, she would reject him, or shame him, or tell him how wrong he was. And maybe Sarah wasn't good. Maybe, somewhere along the line, she, like Lucifer, had broken. But after so many weeks together, the broken pieces felt less jagged and sharp. Sarah couldn't bring herself to push him away. Not when there was nothing to gain, and the rejection would cause both of them so much pain.

Instead, she poured them each a glass of wine, dimmed the lamp, and started a movie. All Dogs Go To Heaven. And if Lucifer's feet wound up in her lap—well, no one was around to judge.

When the hikers knocked on the door a week later, Sarah exchanged a cautious look with Lucifer. It was nearly Christmas, and it wasn't out of the question that real, actual human beings would be staying in the area. There were only two of them, and they were dressed for a day of winter hiking. They could be perfectly innocent. But with their luck, they were probably demons.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" The woman called tentatively. "Sorry, we're lost!"

"Pack," Lucifer said decisively, standing and walking towards the kitchen. "I'll take care of it."

Sarah darted into their bedrooms and got their bags together in record time. When she returned to the main room, Lucifer was at the door, frowning skeptically at the two hikers with a canister of salt hidden behind his back. The hikers looked tired, and damp.

"Sorry to disturb you, but we fell in the creek a while back—" The woman shot an accusing glare at the man with her, who laughed sheepishly. "And our map is ruined. Do you think you could give us some directions? And, uh, maybe use your bathroom?"

Lucifer exchanged a look with Sarah, who shrugged. They looked unarmed, and their 'fell in the creek' story made sense. Lucifer exhaled deeply and opened the door, stepping back to let them enter. Both Lucifer and Sarah watched intently as they entered, only relaxing when they walked past the Devil's trap under the rug without trouble.

Sarah gave the woman directions to the bathroom and beckoned the man over to the bookcase as she rummaged around for a map. Lucifer hovered at the end of the hallway, shooting wary glances between the man and down the hallway where the woman had disappeared. "I'm not sure if I have one," she said apologetically. "I have all the trails around here memorized, though—if I can't find one I'll draw one up."

"Thanks so much," the man said sincerely, looking around curiously. "What's with all the symbols?"

Sarah's hand paused on the bookshelf. She glanced back at the man, but he merely seemed curious. She relaxed. "Native American symbols," she lied. "Keeps out bad spirits, bad luck, that sort of thing."

"Huh." The man accepted the explanation with a shrug. After another minute Sarah pulled on old map from between two books with a small cry of triumph.

"Found one!" There was a distant sound of a toilet flushing and the sink running. Sarah brought the map over to the dining table and pulled out a pen. "Okay, you are here." She marked the cabin on the map. "This is probably the creek you fell into. Where are you staying?"

"Oh, we just drove up for the day. Our car's back at…" The man squinted at the map and pointed. "This trailhead."

Sarah handed him the map as the woman emerged from the hallway. "Way back's simple enough from here, then. Maybe take the path that doesn't cross the creek this time."

The man laughed, sounding exhausted. "Yeah, will do."

"Thank you so much!" The woman gushed as she and her companion walked to the front door. "You have no idea how much you helped us." She opened the door, letting the man pass in front of her and smiling at Sarah and Lucifer. "Oh, one last thing—" Her smile dropped. "Mr. Crowley sends his regards."

Sarah didn't know what that meant, but Lucifer stiffened, eyes darting around the room. Apparently something was wrong, because he cursed and shoved Sarah into the kitchen with such force that she stumbled into a cabinet with a cry. When Sarah turned to demand an explanation, Lucifer's eyes were fixed on the doorway—but he tilted his head purposely in the direction of the cabinet where they kept their horde of salt.

Sarah snapped her mouth shut and crouched down, working her way towards the cabinet as footsteps creaked up the front steps.

"Hello, Lucifer." The man who strolled past the broken devil's trap was well dressed, British, and surveyed the cabin with muted disdain. "My, how far you've fallen. Or should I say, how much farther?"

"Crowley," Lucifer greeted him blandly, but Sarah could see the tension in his posture. He was nervous. This man—demon?—was dangerous. Sarah edged towards the salt, wishing desperately she'd spent more time practicing the chant to exorcise demons. "Wish I could say I was glad to see you, but…" Lucifer shrugged, faux-apologetic.

Crowley didn't smile. "I'd be careful what tone you take with me, you old devil. You see, I hear from Rocky and Bullwinkle that you're powerless, and now I can see for myself that the rumors are true." He looked Lucifer up and down, a slow smile stretching across his face at last. "Although, I suppose it doesn't matter how you talk anymore. You won't be talking anymore in a few minutes."

Sarah seized the salt canister and crept towards the door to the kitchen, hand shaking and heart pounding.

"Oh really?" Lucifer raised his eyebrows. "If you heard from the Winchesters, then you know that I'm like this because of Dad. My dad? You know, God? He probably won't take kindly to my being dead when he gets back."

"If he comes back," Crowley said easily, unconcerned. "Who knows, with your old man. That sabbatical of his could last millennia. Or forever. Either way, it's a risk I'm willing to take."

Crowley raised a hand. Sarah didn't know if demons worked like God, but just in case she couldn't let him snap his fingers. She lunged from the doorway, showering him with salt. Crowley cried out in pain or surprise, Sarah wasn't sure, and his skin smoked a little where the salt touched him. She kept emptying the canister in his direction, forcing him a few feet back. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus, uh, om—"

Sarah's breath left her as she slammed into the wall with force. The canister of salt fell to the floor, spilling everywhere. Lucifer tried to edge gingerly towards it, but Crowley twisted his wrist and he, too, was pinned against the wall.

Crowley advanced on Sarah, unconcerned about his smoking skin as it knit back together before her eyes. "You must be the babysitter." He sounded amused, which would have bothered her more if she weren't struggling for breath. "Really pulled the short straw, getting stuck with him. Now, I hear that you and Lucy here have a most peculiar connection…"

Crowley raised his right hand towards Sarah and extended just his index finger. As the digit straightened, Sarah hissed as blood trickled down her left cheek. Crowley raised his eyebrows, looking between Sarah and Lucifer and grinning a satisfied, boyish grin at the sight of the blood now pouring down Lucifer's cheek. "How fascinating. Unfortunately for you, darling, I want Lucifer dead, which means that you'll have to die, as well."

"No," Lucifer ground out, blood staining his mouth.

Crowley turned, eyebrow arched in surprise. "No?" He stalked closer to Lucifer, ignoring Sarah. "Come now. You haven't gone soft on me, have you?" Crowley make a sympathetic noise. "Crush on the babysitter?"

"The connection only works one way," Lucifer rasped. "Killing her kills me, not the other way around. She doesn't have to die."

Crowley hummed doubtfully. "That's not how I heard it."

Lucifer, powerless and pinned to the wall, still had the sass to roll his eyes. "She was bluffing, last time. We all know any reasonably intelligent ape can pull one over on the Winchesters."

"Fair," Crowley acknowledged. "Well, there's an easy way to test that." He gestured sharply with his left hand, and a bloody gash opened on Lucifer's other cheek. Crowley glanced at Sarah's face, untouched by his latest assault, and quirked an eyebrow. "Well, fancy that. It is true. Good news, babysitter. You don't have to die today." He raised one hand, then paused. "Although…"

Crowley turned a speculative eye to Lucifer. "You're going to die either way. The only life you've saved today is hers." Crowley leaned closer, eyes narrowed, then pulled away with a disbelieving laugh. "You care about her!" Crowley looked between them once more, and was it just a trick of the light, or were his eyes red? "You know, maybe I shouldn't let her go… maybe I should kill her, slowly, and take away your little pet as recompense for every injustice you ever visited upon me."

"The Winchesters will go after you," Lucifer said easily, sounding unconcerned despite the threats and the blood sticking to his face.

"Nah, I doubt it," Crowley said, shrugging. "Bit put out, maybe. Yelling, a few death threats. But they can't possibly care too much about her, or they'd never have left her alone with you."

Some of Lucifer's over-confident facade seemed to drop then. He looked grave, and the blood on his face made the look unnerving. "Let her go."

Crowley smiled. "Look at you dance. You know, I will, but only because you're embarrassing yourself. It's ruining my fun." Crowley snapped, Sarah dropped heavily to the floor, and Lucifer hid a wince. Crowley waved a hand at her without looking. "Run along now, girl. Nightmare's over, you're free."

Sarah stood, shaking, and looked to Lucifer for some clue, for a plan. He glanced at her only briefly, nodded minutely towards the front door, and then his eyes were fixed on Crowley.

He wanted her to leave? Seriously? No way. She hadn't spent months of her life taking care of Lucifer and lied to people trying to kill him just to walk away and let him die. Sarah shook her head and backed into the kitchen quietly, trying to think. Crowley was too powerful, and the devil's trap was broken. She wouldn't have a chance to fix it. Salt hurt him, but not enough to disable him. She wouldn't be able to get through a whole exorcism, not unless she could trap him. Which she couldn't. Sarah cursed, peeking around the door warily.

"You know, in a way this is a relief," Crowley said brightly. He had produced a large, wicked-looking knife from seemingly nowhere. "I had thought about doing this quick, you know, for the girl's sake." He brought the knife up and sliced through Lucifer's shirt in one jerking motion, revealing pale, vulnerable flesh. "But now I won't have even the teensiest bit of remorse about doing this nice…" He touched the blade to Lucifer's sternum. "And…" He pressed ever so lightly. Blood beaded on the tip of the knife. "Slow."

Sarah looked away, bile rising in her throat. What the hell could she do? Demons were super strong. They didn't have the same weaknesses as their human vessels… Sarah cast around for anything she could use to stop Crowley before he killed Lucifer. Knives, useless. Salt, basically useless. Frying pan—frying pan. Her grandmother's old cast iron frying pan. Iron was like salt to demons, it burned them, and the frying pan was heavy. If she could swing it hard enough, catch him by surprise, Sarah might be able to knock him out.

With shaking hands, she reached out and grabbed it. She slowly edged once more to the doorway. She glanced out.

Red blood shone on the knife. Crowley looked pleased, Lucifer bored. As Sarah watched, his jaw cracked in a loud yawn. "You know, for the so-called 'King of Hell', the torture's pretty underwhelming," Lucifer drawled lazily.

"All in good time." Sarah held her breath as Crowley fixed his eyes on Lucifer's face, a cold smile stretching his lips. She gripped the handle of the pan tightly and edged her foot around the corner. "I happen to like a little foreplay."

Sarah jumped forward and brought the pan down in one swing. Crowley was knocked to the floor with a howl and a sickening crunch. The sheer force of the blow knocked the pan from Sarah's hands and sent it clattering to the floor. Lucifer, too, dropped, though he looked annoyed.

"Are you concussed?" He demanded. "Have you forgotten what run means?" He scooped up the pan and ushered Sarah back towards the fallen canister of salt from earlier. "Make a circle and get in it." Sarah moved to obey as Lucifer hefted the pan, aiming another swing for Crowley's head. It was too late.

Crowley waved a hand and the pan went flying through the window of the main room. Another wave and Lucifer and Sarah were tossed hard against the wall again. A third got rid of the salt Sarah had just poured out.

"You utter bitch." Crowley dabbed at his bloody lip with a handkerchief, glaring at her as his skull fused back together with soft popping noises and the burnt skin of his face faded into new, pale, untouched skin. "I was a good boy. I let you live! And this is how you repay me?" Crowley tucked away the handkerchief, scowling at both her and Lucifer. "Should have known better, with the company you keep."

"You should have run." Lucifer's scolding didn't have much bite to it. He looked resigned.

"What kind of babysitter would I be if I just an away and let you die?" Sarah joked half-heartedly. "Couldn't do it."

"Very well then," Crowley said easily, picking up his discarded knife and twirling it jauntily. "Have it your way." He shoved the knife into Sarah's shoulder.

The pain didn't kick in at first. Sarah let out a startled scream from the force, but for a moment she thought, wildly, that being stabbed wasn't so bad. Then Crowley slid out the knife, slowly, and Sarah's ears rang with the sound. It took her a moment to realize that was her own scream. Warm blood soaked her shirt and dots danced in her vision.

It sounded like Lucifer was talking, but she couldn't hear him properly, because Crowley had slid the knife into her gut this time, and again, and again. She couldn't scream anymore, but she thought she might still be talking. Babbling apologies, because somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that Lucifer was bleeding out, too.

Sarah didn't know how long it took before she fell away from the wall. Maybe she hadn't been pinned there after all. Was anything real?

"No, no, no, no, no," Lucifer's voice was a little clearer now. Sarah spotted his face, bloody and pained and distraught hovering above her. His light from the window lit him from the back, creating a halo effect around him, and Sarah remembered suddenly that he was an angel.

"Lucifer." Sarah put her hand against his face to get him to stop muttering, and was distracted for just a moment at the sight of her blood mingling with his own. His jaw snapped shut, eyes on her, terrified and wounded and bright. "There really is a heaven, right? That part was real?"

Lucifer shuddered against her and ripped her hand off his cheek. "Yes, it's real. But you're not going there right now." Lucifer hunched over her, clasping her hand tightly in his, and closed his eyes in deep concentration. Or maybe it was prayer, Sarah thought, with the way his lips were moving desperately. She wondered if anyone would hear him if he was. If anyone was listening.

"Isn't this touching?" Crowley was still here? Sarah lolled her head to the side and was able to catch a glimpse of his shiny black shoes. That made sense, she supposed. Best to watch them bleed out, make sure they died properly. Not like all those TV villains, assuming the job was done and having it come back to bite them.

Sarah felt cold now. This must be what dying felt like, she thought. She used the last of her energy to loll her head back again. If she was going to die, she'd rather do it looking at Lucifer than looking at her murderer's shoes. Sarah gazed up at his bloody face, resigned, but her vision didn't go dark like she thought it would. It actually seemed to get… brighter? She was really cold, now, and confused, because surely dying and feeling cold wouldn't cause her breath to mist in the air in front of her like this?

Above her, Lucifer seemed to relax with a sigh, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face. When he opened his eyes, they glowed from within, like hot coals from a fire.

"Close your eyes, Sarah," he said, voice almost fond. Sarah did.

"Oh, bollocks," Crowley said, and then it was bright. Even against her closed eyelids the light was bright, blinding, and even after it had gone dark again and she could open them, Sarah had to blink multiple times to clear the spots in her vision.

When she did, she stared. Lucifer was bloody, but whole. The gashes on his cheeks had healed completely, and after a moment Sarah realized she must be healed, too, because the only pain she felt now was from her tailbone digging into the hardwood floor.

Sarah swallowed and managed a shaky smile. "Way to go, Thor."

Because he was an angel again. She could tell. Not just because he'd healed her, and the only evidence of her mortal wound was the blood soaking her clothes and Lucifer's hands. She could tell by the light in his eyes, the relief in his shoulders. She watched, holding her breath, waiting for him to pull away and disappear. To kill her, if he still wanted to, or to re-start the apocalypse, or to hunt down his father, wherever he was in the universe.

Instead, he breathed a short, shuddering sigh of relief, and kissed her.

Sarah froze in surprise. His lips were cool and insistent, one bloody hand cupping her face, eyes closed in concentration and something pained she couldn't name. Sarah let her own eyes drift shut, wondering vaguely how he could kiss so passionately when he had so little practice.

He kissed her fiercely. He clutched her shoulders like he was a dying of thirst, and she was water. He clasped her like she would float away if he didn't hold her tight enough. He kissed her like he was afraid that, any moment, she would come to her senses and shove him away.

She didn't come to her senses. She pulled him closer.