Event Log: Dreamwalker

[hadrielmods]

Who: Everyone!
What: The Dreamwalker event
Where: In your comfy bed and your sleepy head.
When: May 16th-26th
Warnings: Good dreams, weird dreams, bad dreams, straight-up nightmares. Please remember to tag for warnings in the header if things are going to be bad!

Have you been having trouble getting a good night's sleep? Tossing and turning, unable to rest those tired eyes? Or maybe you don't sleep at all, and never have. Not to worry! For a little while, you'll have no trouble at all falling asleep - in fact, as night falls, you'll find yourself overwhelmed with exhaustion whether you want to sleep or not. Lay down and rest your weary head, friends. Everyone could use a little extra sleep.

But what will your dreams bring? Something happy, images of a perfect day? Something hopeful, something you've wanted for a long time? Maybe you'll dream of anger, of the face of your worst enemy. Or maybe - just maybe - you'll have a horrific nightmare, and wake screaming, covered in cold sweat.

Not before others have time to see it, though. As you sleep, as you dream, the other residents of Hadriel, friends and enemies and people you've only met once, might find their way into your dreams. Or you might find your way into theirs - and then have to deal with someone's else's nightmares, or hopes, or anger. For the next ten nights, you'll find yourself either a host or a visitor, and no matter how you try you won't be able to stay awake once night falls.

Sweet dreams, Hadriel. Don't let the asshole fear gods bite.

► This log covers May 16th-26th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► You can't die in the dreams, but if you somehow manage to trip and fall and kill yourself getting out of bed, please report it on the death post.

Comments

[strangelic]

[ What to approach first? More than one Creation? It's possible. All of this is a lot to do in one go, it would stand to reason that God had made a mistake or two once or twice, and had to do things over. The dinosaurs, for example. But that was neither here or there; even Balthazar knew how to reach adjacent universes, although to be fair he'd fled the Host a great sight earlier than Castiel had broken from them.

No, that was really all very moot, and as stunned by the revelation as this angelic intruder seemed to be, it was another thing entirely that made him pause, his expression changing almost from preparing against impending threat to revolted horror. ]

You burned them? How could an angel--why would you...

[ The very thought of it made him feel ill, and he looked around at the ash that surrounded him with shame, and agony. This was only a dream, his wings were still very much intact - if you could call them that - but it was representative of how he'd truly feel about the loss. To choose that? To reject Heaven permanently, never with any hope of redemption?

But it still didn't give him a clue to the angel's name. Not here. When he reached for it, though, he was beginning to feel some hint of that power; the dream world and its control over him was being shaken by that imposed divinity.

It made him nervous, more nervous still, not to have a direct answer, and now he drew his blade, eyes narrowing. ]

Who are you?

[retiredfromhell]

[ Would it come as a surprise to Castiel that Lucifer was thinking along the same lines? Creations that maybe hadn’t been just what Dad was looking for, cast aside or populated with little godlets like the ones who ran this world and left to their own devices. Lucifer was still trying to work out how he felt about that. The idea that there were creations that far beyond his father’s reach, a true exile (which would have been fine by Lucifer) instead of the villainy and punishment he’d endured in Hell.

That line of thought lead back to the never ending, internal struggle over the question of what exactly was the nature of Hell? Had it been his punishment or a gift of his father’s belief in him, with the punishment being the atrocities assigned to his name?

And he had the gall to accuse Dean of existential crisis. Well, yes he did have the gall, but anyway. Perhaps one day Castiel would share his thoughts and they could discuss them but right this moment might not quite be that time.

Lucifer watched the blade appear. There was no fear in him, not even anything that could be called a cautious wariness, but he was aware of the weapon. He’d used his own sword often enough, first in the defense of Heaven and then against it, though his own blade was different. But he didn’t doubt the purpose would be similar and preternaturally forged weapons were always to be taken seriously.

His eyes moved from the weapon, dismissing it (at least to appearance) as he focused on Castiel’s eyes. It was almost impossible not to see the suffering in them, the sense of wretched guilt and the pain of loss. Lucifer could well remember every one of those emotions, as he cycled through them in the beginning. If for no other reason, which stayed his hand from any sort of aggressive reaction to the threat display from the other angel. ]

I’m not interested in fighting with you, Castiel. It serves me no purpose and you even less so, hmm?

In my universe, my version of all this [ he motioned behind him towards the dream projections of other angels ] I’m retired. I got tired of it, playing to Dad’s whims, the games he puts us all through; the manipulation.

I left Hell, walked away, and when I arrived on Earth I cut off my wings. Recently, when they would be used against me as a leash [ his voice had sharpened a little, the intensity starting to burn in dark eyes ] I burned them.

Because I will not be chained to Heaven or to Hell.

[ Again he waited to see if there was recognition, before he continued, his voice softening but yet at the same time filled with that well known, prideful arrogance. ]

I haven’t gone by my name since I renounced it but as for my title? Lucifer Morningstar.

[strangelic]

[ Castiel genuinely, truly, didn't want to fight. It was so far away from what he wanted to right at this very second, in fact, that the blade shook in his tightened fist. The longer Lucifer spoke - and it became immensely clear to him, finally, long before he admitted his name--title? What did that mean - the more afraid he became, the more he coiled back toward the trembling terror of what had come before he awoke.

His mind locked down like a steel trap, enclosing them both inside, and in the dream everything changed as well. Iron bars as high as Heaven itself crashed into the ground around them, containing them inside. The Cage in its unyielding entirety, Sam's memories of the place vibrant and clear, as they had been in those first suffering moments, and almost all the way until that little hopeful, insistent ping that had dragged him from his sleep. The Cage, and the Cage inside his mind, because that was where Lucifer belonged, and because it solidified how Castiel felt: as though he were trapped, and there was nowhere that he could run to. Trapped, condemned to this suffering.

The outside of the Cage transformed into nothing but flame and darkness. Burning metal chains suspended them nowhere at all. It was a hopeless trap, for a hopeless case. Lucifer.

Of course he'd come back here. Of course. The sleeping had been bound to trigger it again sooner or later. Closing his eyes even to blink, he justified to himself, had always carried that risk.

The logical side of Castiel, naturally, insisted that this wasn't his brother. This wasn't the great, terrifying archangel that Castiel had looked up to in the newborn wake of his own creation only to be stunned by his immense power and beauty. But it was. It was. His will was that will. His pride and contempt was Lucifer's pride and contempt.

The blade hit the ground just before Castiel did, crumbling first to his knees and then falling back, pulling them up to his chest and wrapping his arms tight around them. The corner of his eyes pricked with tears he'd never had, could never shed, but this was a dream, and half remembered memories of Sam's agony came in tow with piercing, heartwrenching misery.

Briefly renewed into his catatonia, Castiel said nothing in response to Lucifer's words, his admission, but curled up tighter into himself. He was shaking, although whether it was Sam who had shaken or Castiel himself who trembled wasn't clear, didn't matter. He shook with remembered terror and grief, and curled his fingernails into the flesh of his knees through his clothing. ]

[retiredfromhell]

[ Well, that was certainly dramatic.

Lucifer stood and watched as the cage came crashing down around them. There was no fear in him, no reaction beyond a calm, deliberate review of the bars as they set, the fire beyond them and the sense of weight behind the cage. This place obviously had intense meaning for the angel in front of him, perhaps for all angels of his Creation, even the archangels and for that reason alone, Lucifer left the bars untouched.

The threat of them didn’t concern him, his self-confidence was too strong to be thrown by the display. And despite what he was to this Castiel in this other Creation, this version of Lucifer was not cruel, unless given cause. He punished evil when presented with it and he was ruthless in discharging his duty but he didn’t seek evil; despite what that silly book said. Castiel had done nothing to warrant either cruelty or punishment and as this cage, this horrifying mental plane, was the angel’s mind at work, seeking to destroy it would be … tricky.

Even if Lucifer wasn’t particularly amused at being (even metaphorically) trapped.

He watched the blade drop from fingers that looked as if they’d gone numb, a dark eyebrow arching as this little brother (fine he’ll adopt you) crumpled beneath a weight that looked to be too much for him.

’He’s family’
’He can hold his own’

Dean’s words, though they had been typed at the time, echoed back at him.

Stepping forward with a graceful glide, that preternatural gait that he only occasionally adopted these days, Lucifer moved across the burned landscape, unperturbed by the flames just beyond the bars. He stopped just to Castiel’s side and after a brief hesitation (baby brothers, what were you going to do with them?) he reached down and set his hand on the angel’s shoulder.

Because despite the stories, despite the negative propaganda, despite being labeled as the penultimate boogeyman to both mortals and young angels alike, despite his own mockery of all things divine, Lucifer was still, divine. Family knew family after all, even if both siblings had hands stained with blood.

But there was more to this than that one connection. Lucifer made a show of giving absolutely no fucks. He played at over the top mannerisms and ‘devil may care’ (pardon the pun) irreverence for everything and everyone around him. It suited him to do so because it so often covered up his keen sense of observation. Since the beginning of time, the fabled power of the Lightbringer was only a small fraction of what made him himself. Observation and knowing was one of the key underpinnings and let’s face it; Dean was as subtle as a brick to the head. ]

Breath. [ He commanded (yes commanded it is Lucifer we’re talking about) and his fingers flexed, as if to remind Castiel how to inhale/exhale. ] Find Dean. He’s here, Castiel, look for your family. They need you and not like this.

[ AKA, now is not the time to indulge in catatonia. ]

[strangelic]

[ That's the problem, really. Dean believes in Castiel, has seen him rise beyond his fears before. Even if he hadn't been with him all those months in Purgatory, the Castiel that Dean had known had swiftly squared his feet underneath himself and taken control, even with hundreds of Leviathan on his trail--or because of them. Those hazy few weeks between Castiel waking, and Dick Roman being brought down, in which they'd spent a scant few hours together, were only half remembered, long ago things, which were inconsequential now.

This Castiel hadn't had that advantage. He's had a few days, since then, to gather himself, find safety at Dean's side, and reassure himself that he isn't going to backslide, before these dreams, each of them more frightening and uncontrollable than the last. He has a crisp memory, he remembers destroying Madison Square Garden, killing politicians and churchmen, trying to make the world better through death. Hah, better, as though that had been the motivation of the creatures writhing inside him. He'd thought it was because it made it easier for them to manipulate him at first, but in time they hadn't needed his permission. They'd removed the people who would be in their way, that was all, and the rest had been a case of torturing their host.

And like that, corrupted, he'd broken the walls in Sam's head, and it was only fair that he take the brunt of it upon himself. This Cage, the torture that Sam's soul had suffered through, the way he'd missed his family, missed Dean.

But one other thing. There was one other thing that he'd taken on, and even as Castiel found himself breathing on command, angling himself toward the soft command and reassurance - not empathy, but it would do - the hallucination took shape behind him. One dark eyed, dark haired Lucifer beside another, dirty blonde hair, small, dangerous blue eyes. He had his hands in his pockets, lips quirked. ]

Dean isn't your family, [ HalLucifer chided. ] But we are, aren't we? And what a family we are. Dysfunction doesn't even begin to describe it. But Dean and Sam? They drove away and left you, little brother. The only people they care about are each other. That makes you what? The third wheel? The family pet?

[ HalLucifer stepped in, casting a smug sideward glance at his alternate, and then reached past him toward the angel on the floor. ]

Did the big bleeding heart here let you off your leash? Here you go, puppy.

[ Any hope that Castiel had turned to misery and betrayal as a heavy collar, leaden with chains, suddenly appeared around his throat. His head sagged forward, pulled down under their weight--or perhaps Castiel just let it go. It was too much to try and fight back. ]

There. Isn't that better?

[retiredfromhell]

[ At the sound of a new voice, Lucifer turned his fingers still on Castiel’s shoulder. Despite the fact that physically speaking they were quite different types, he could recognize that stance (hands in the pockets) the twist of a sneer on his lips, the superiority they wore as a birthright.

As he’d watched the iron bars come down, so too did Lucifer watch the actions of his other!self. The harsh words, the disdain with which he spoke to ‘little brother’, the scalpel like way he cut at the other angel’s weak spots. It was familiar. The dark haired Lucifer was perfectly capable of those same tactics when he had a target in his sights but why do such a thing to this little one?
That Castiel was strong … well, Lucifer had yet to learn the nuances but he was quickly putting together a picture. The angel had, from all reports, survived quite a lot and even if he was now in pieces within his own mind, that was still better than the alternative. Still, he and this blonde self were archangels with all the power and age that came with it.

Why was he being so ruthless towards this Castiel?

Dream scape. Lucifer reminded himself, looking down at Castiel. The subconscious building its darkest boogeyman out of the materials it had at hand. Interesting.

As Castiel dropped from beneath his touch, dragged down by the chains, Lucifer turned towards his blonde self. His hands adopted the same, in the pocket, position and he studied this construction before speaking to it. ]

Since when do we take any sort of delight in chaining others? Wasn’t the initial argument with Dad about Free Will?

[strangelic]

[ Lucifer watched Lucifer. It was almost as though the hallucination echoed the movements of the visitor, or perhaps it was the other way around. They were mirrors to each other, and yet entirely different. Castiel only glanced upward through his eyelashes, before he dropped his eyes away, just listening. He didn't know which of them would win. ]

I don't know whether you've noticed, [ Answered the hallucination, ] But there isn't exactly a great deal around here to do for fun. Castiel and his little friends threw me in Dad's Cage. What--because Hell wasn't punishment enough? - and Michael and I... We haven't got much else to do.

[ The hallucination turned to look down at the angel. ] The punishment should fit the crime, and perhaps that would be true in a universe where justice is just, but we both know that dear old Daddy is a stickler for going over the top to prove a point.

I mean. Our own issues aside, piecing together Castiel from all the little pieces I broke him into, just so that he can slaughter his own kind? If that was His Plan, you've got to admit-- [ He raised his hand up toward his mouth, whispering past it as though hiding his words from God himself: ] --it makes him a bit of a dickbag.

[ Castiel's subconscious is blasphemous, who'd have known? ]

Besides, [ The hallucination continued. ] I'm not just chaining him up, I'm going to torture him too. Aren't I, Cassie?

[retiredfromhell]

Oh I'll be the first to admit that Dad is a manipulative bastard, particularly when it comes to his Plan. [ Lucifer would agree with himself on that one. That, at least, seemed to be a universal constant. ]

However, I can't say my version of Father ever came up with anything like this. [ He motioned to the bars, pacing outwards and towards them now, studying them. ] This is too direct for him, he likes to use metaphors, let you tie yourself up in his head games and then lord it over you as part of the 'Plan'.

[ He turned back towards himself and moved towards the hallucination. ]

Are you sure this [ he twirled his finger to indicate the cage ] isn't just that sort of head game? I mean obviously at this moment it is [ he pointed towards Castiel ] since you're not exactly real but you real enough to him.

[ And here, he approached the blonde, slightly shorter version of himself. ]

Which brings me back to my original point. Why are you so set on torturing him? You suggest the punishment should fit the crime and I do know something about punishment but I have yet to hear the crime.

[ Lucifer wheeled around then, gracefully sinking to his heels so he was more on level with Castiel. After all, this was Castiel's mind and while these words may be couched as spoken from Lucifer himself, they were still built from little brother's subconscious. ]

Why torture yourself again, Castiel?

[strangelic]

[ When Castiel awoke, he'd reflect on everything he was hearing here, now, on what was so different between the Lucifer he knew and this version, who was...compassionate. Not actually compassionate, obviously, because he wasn't empathetic, he didn't seem to care one way or another. Or... Did he? Thoughts for later. Questions for later. Castiel had always loved his brothers and sisters, but he doubted they had any affection for him--certainly not any more. But he was able to remember the way that Lucifer had looked at him, when they'd faced each other over the holy fire, like Castiel and he had something in common; like he would be welcome to join him, just as the Grigori and some of the others had joined him when he'd turned against Heaven.

The hallucination didn't respond to any of his words. They weren't for the hallucination to listen to, after all. Each word, every murmur, was angled for Castiel's own attention. He was supposed to be listening.

The eventual question, when the visitor crouched in front of him, made that clear. His eyes cleared, and slowly Castiel raised his heavy head, making eye contact again. It was Lucifer but it wasn't, so far away from the brother he knew, who would crush him under his heel so much as look at him. He didn't want to fight. The visitor didn't want to fight. That was all he wanted from his own kind, wasn't it? Peace? Acceptance? An effort to understand and cherish the humanity that they had been put here to serve.

The confrontation forced him to look inside, but not hide there. Why? ]

I... [ And it was his own voice again, not the sneering archangel standing over them both. ] I failed. I betrayed the only family I've ever had, and I killed the only family I ever knew. Thousands of angels, my own brothers and sisters, with my own hands. If it had been a battle, perhaps then--but it was a purge. A genocide. I killed them, and then I released this Hell, these memories, into the mind of a man who would, despite everything, without hesitation, call me brother.

I can't forgive myself for that. For any of it. How can you?

[retiredfromhell]

[ Balanced effortlessly on his heels, Lucifer waited. He could be incredibly patient, when he wanted to be and often when it didn’t look as if he was being patient at all; he’d mastered the tactic millennium ago.

Was this Lucifer compassionate? Empathetic? That was a good question, a question Lucifer himself was trying to unwind. For a long time the answer was an emphatic no. He was his father’s instrument of punishment and he was ruthless in discharging that duty.

’Stop caring. You’re the devil.’ Maze’s words still echoed in his head, as he wrestled between who he had been and the choices he’d made; particularly recently with the burning of his wings.

His contact with Heaven was Amenadiel, who didn’t hesitate to treat him like a wayward little brother and Lucifer didn’t hesitate to live up to (lowered) expectations. The two archangels locked in a cycle of sibling argument that dated back to the beginning of time. Castiel was the first angel, outside his disapproving brother, who Lucifer had encountered in a very long time and from Lucifer’s perspective, Castiel was the little brother and that stirred a well of conflicting emotions within.

Somewhere, he expected his father was having a right proper laugh at the way circumstances were unfolding for his wayward son.

Before the detective Lucifer would have walked away with a drink in his hand and without a fuck given in his so called soul. But … circumstances change.

One arm folded over his knees, he reached out with the other and set long fingers just beneath Castiel’s chin, to keep the angel’s head up, ruthless but not unkind in the way he commanded eye contact. ]

You forgive yourself because there comes a point where self-flagellation becomes self-serving. [ He said the words directly, once again not unkind but he wasn’t mincing them either. ] You forgive yourself because there are those who need you and if you look closely, you realize you’re hiding from them behind a wall of self-loathing.

[ He released Castiel’s chin, hoping to see the angel hold his own head up. ]

You forgive yourself because you become strong enough to understand and accept your mistakes and decisions you made of your own free will. You forgive yourself when you decide what’s important to you.

[ He paused, refusing to look over his shoulder at the man he knew he had been at one time. The Lucifer who would have crushed any sign of weakness beneath his heel. His dark eyes burned, not true hell fire, he had no reason to turn that on Castiel, but the strength of will that helped provide Lucifer with his label of ‘prideful’.

Sometimes his arrogance backfired in spectacular fashion but he had never begging forgiveness for who he was. ]

So ask yourself, Castiel. What’s important to you?

[strangelic]

[ With all the wicked acceleration of his God given mind, processing thoughts exactly at the speed of light--because he was made of light, and thought, and will, primarily--Castiel still took long enough to dwell over what Lucifer was saying to him. They were good words, and he made a convincing argument for it, particularly given the context that they came from, the angel that they came from. They weren't to be taken lightly. So, he weighed them with all the gravity they deserved, even against his own fear, his own uncertainty, his own nerves.

This, he decided first, was not the Lucifer he knew, but it was still his brother. Perhaps more accurately, even if there were a distance of universes or even multiple Creations between them, this was a Lucifer who had accepted and forgiven himself for what he'd been, for his war against Heaven. Perhaps he had been forgiven in turn, Castiel didn't know. He didn't know how he managed to raise his head with the burden that he must surely carry, and yet he seemed to find confidence and forward momentum despite it all. It could just be his arrogance that bore him through, he supposed. Castiel had been arrogant too, however, and it hadn't made the losses he'd inflicted any less painful.

As he looked into the other angel's eyes - there, and nowhere else - the hallucination turned liquid, and vanished away like a ripple in a pool. Some of that strength, it seemed, fed into him, and his head stayed up when he was released, feeding into those last few comments more than any that had come before. This, he realized--this was what he'd been missing, in his relationships with other angels. This was what it was supposed to be like.

It troubled him that he found that clarity with Lucifer, out of any of them, but he supposed that was only fair. Lucifer, after all, had understood the power of his own free will for longer than any of them. He had been forced to adapt and change and accept a long time ago what Castiel had only had for two short years. Free will. He wasn't strong enough to accept what he'd done yet, no. He needed time for that. He needed words, but not from him. They had to come from the people he'd let down the most with his selfishness, from Sam, and from Dean.

So it made the question, when it came, easy to answer, even if all the things that he desired overflowed thereafter. He knew exactly what he wanted. Clarity settled in his blue eyes, and the Cage and the flame and the nothingness snapped away. They were standing, instead, in a long white corridor, with white floors, white ceilings, white walls, and white doors all the way along it, separated only by a few feet at a time. The chains and collar were gone, and the angel wobbled upright, asserting himself entirely over the dream with sudden forcefulness. ]

Redemption. [ He answered. ] Belonging. An end to murder and violence of my kind upon themselves, upon humanity. Peace; that's what I want. Friendship. Love. And I want... [ He dropped his eyes. ] --I want it to be simple. I want to have time to watch the bees, and talk to the flowers. I want...

[ But he trailed off, fell quiet, as one of the doors opened to a quiet summer day, the Impala parked up beside a lake front, with Sam and Dean chatting to each other and drinking beer as they leant against the hood. He lowered his eyes away from the sight, as though he were imposing upon it.

That. That was what was important to him; most important. He'd stumbled quickly over 'belonging', as though it didn't matter--but there it was. ]

[retiredfromhell]

[ Had he been forgiven? Could you be forgiven if you never asked for forgiveness? The rules were different, depending upon where you looked and Lucifer was still struggling with the challenge Linda had posed to him.

Had Hell been a punishment or a gift?

Of course, with Dad the answers were never a linear as yes/no, at least not for the angels. Perhaps for mortals, again depending upon what book you looked in but not for the angels; at least not in Lucifer’s estimation. Perhaps this was what had always left him with a unique sense of connection to his siblings, even during and after the Fall. Even as they fought, often ruthlessly and with a bloody intensity that was without precedent, even in the mortal world, there was still a need for one another.

He couldn’t speak for how the war had gone down with the version of himself who came from the Creation this little brother belonged too but Lucifer remembered every bit of his own Fall. From the argument with Gabriel over the murder of children (demons yes but children) to the actual war, where those who followed him lay slaughtered around him in the end.

Did Lucifer feel the weight of their deaths? Perhaps he was more like his father than he wished to admit, because the answer was both yes and no. Those who had followed him had done so of their own choice and in Lucifer’s belief, it was more to die by one’s own choice than to serve at the whim of another. He’d said as much when Gabriel and Michael had overpowered him, holding him at sword point, ready to destroy him in the split moment before Father stepped in.

In Lucifer’s eyes, the war had been inevitable and he wondered if Father hadn’t expected it. After all, omnipotent and all that.

But ahhh Free Will, what a double edged sword you are.

As for just how far Lucifer’s arrogance could carry him? The answer was, only a step shorter than his Will. No matter how hard he struggled against it, he was the product of his creator and that particular struggle was between himself and Dad.

Still hunkered down on his heels, Lucifer watched as Castiel pulled himself together. It pleased him, even if he could still see frayed edges, but this little brother was already proving to be stronger than so many. Despite the fact that Castiel now stood above him, Lucifer made no quick movement to re-establish his physical dominance through height. Instead, he studied the white upon white landscape with a dry sort of interest and it was only when Castiel opened that one door that he came, fluidly, to his feet.

Stepping up behind the other angel, at his shoulder, he studied the scene with a bit of a wry smirk (hey, some arrogance was just gonna happen) and a small shake of his head. Not his perfect picture by a long shot but hey, if it was what got Castiel up off his knees they’d go with it. Instead, he leaned forward, his voice coming from close by Castiel’s ear now. ]

You want to know the secret about redemption? [ He asked, not waiting for an answer before he continued. ] You have to work for it. No one can give it to you.

[ As for the ideas of peace, Lucifer's own view on that was probably not what Castiel would appreciate at this exact point so for right now, he kept it to himself. ]

Stop looking for forgiveness, little brother, accept what you did, but don't let it define who you are. [ Perhaps that was one of Lucifer's own choices, at least one that he was working to be more conscious of, now that he'd seen some of what his machinations had wrought. ] It's demeaning and unworthy of the affection they have for you.

[strangelic]

[ Castiel came entirely back into his own strength with those last words. From Lucifer, of all people--but they were something good, something to reach for. God knew he had always hoped to find some kind of guidance from the archangels at one point, or even from his own superiors, and they had all failed him, but this? This was advice that he could find his own truth within. Don't look for forgiveness, accept what he'd done? It only seemed possible in any way because of who was speaking the words. They would have been hollow and empty from any other member of the Host.

No. Lucifer was sound, and it was perhaps the absolutely opposite way that this one called him "Little brother" which grounded him more than anything else. It shouldn't have been as reassuring as it was, but that was what enveloped him most of all. It offered what he'd been trying to find in himself, if only he got out of his own way.

Now all he had to do was coalesce what he'd accepted here with the complexity he faced externally. His guilt still ate at him, and he hadn't apologized. It was a "Sorry" universe, after all, and he had his place in it. Stop looking for forgiveness? He frowned to himself, still naval-gazing over it. ]

I should at least find a way to apologize, shouldn't I, before I give up on it completely? [ It was a question, even if he was really asking the wrong person. Their affection for him? Sam and Dean loved each other most of all, it was hard to find where he was supposed to fit in that. He paused, hesitantly. Something the hallucination had said: ] You don't think I'm the third wheel?

[retiredfromhell]

[ At this point, Lucifer was relaxing a little and some of his dry humor snuck through the cracks. ]

I couldn't say. [ He answered, honestly but a little seductively as well. ] Course, I've always enjoyed being a third, sometimes a fourth or fifth wheel myself.

[ He'll hold off on the stories beyond that, for the sake of Castiel's innocent ears. Lucifer leaned back, turned as if to head on about his business but then he paused and turned back, looking thoughtful. ]

Though it occurs to me that in terms of strength, a triangle is considered the strongest of all the shapes. Because it can equally distribute the weight across all three sides. [ He may not have the details, and he may only have met Sam the one time but the three of them (Castiel, Dean and Sam) screamed 'weight of the world' on their shoulders.

Lucifer paused thoughtfully, then shrugged as if he were just chattering, not possibly trying to draw attention to something. ]

No idea what brought that to mind. [ Yeahsure.

He gave Castiel one last look and then turned, obviously intending to move along. ]

[strangelic]

[ Castiel had just been about to comment on the sturdiness of adding third or fourth wheels himself. Maybe later he'll review what he's heard and put two and two together, but to be fair his Lucifer was never hot on the sexual innuendo, so he has nowhere to draw that information from.

It isn't as though he's completely innocent. Humans - and everything else - have been having sex for a very long time. He's aware, and it's boring. So boring. But on the other hand, he saw what the pizza man did, and it wasn't about delivering pizza.

He nodded, thoughtfully, and turned to watch Lucifer step away, before he called after him. ]

May I seek you out?

[retiredfromhell]

[ Wait what??

Sex was boring? Did you do it wrong, Castiel? Probably best not to talk about pizza delivery boys; Lucifer often tempted them to deliver more than pizza.

At the call, he glanced over his shoulder, genuinely surprised to have been asked but merely nodding his head in the affirmative. ]

I'm in the first spire of apartments, top floor.

[ No, of course he couldn't just say something simple like, 'of course'. ]

[strangelic]

[ Try poor, fragile little virgin who watched some porn once. That is only meant to happen in porn, Lucifer, you're not actually supposed to do it.

But he's watched a lot of fornication. You don't sit around observing life and not notice it, if they're not doing it they're thinking about it constantly, and the ones with actual genitals aren't even the only ones. It's all flowers and trees seem to be able to think about too. You'd think they'd get bored of it after a few millennia.

But that's neither here or there. He nods, thoughtfully agreeing. In the spires, of course. Probably for the same reason as Castiel was grateful to find himself residing there. It was high. It felt comforting.

He'd visit him, when he was awake again--or perhaps he'd return this favor. Whichever came first. ]