Chapter 41

"Yeah, you're making a lot of progress in Peggle," Gabriel says sarcastically, looking at his brother with a raised eyebrow.

Lucifer's lying facedown on a random bed doing absolutely nothing. He doesn't even acknowledge his little brother until Gabriel runs up to him and jumps on his back yelling, "Cannonball!"

Lucifer groans, feeling his spine crumble under his brother's weight. He sits up and pushes Gabriel off, healing his vessel easily before glaring at the younger archangel.

"What?" he snaps.

"Woah, Luce, what's up with you?" Gabriel laughs from the floor. "You sound like you just got thrown into a volcano like that ring from that movie."

"Fuck off," Lucifer growls.

"Nah," Gabriel replies lazily, sprawling out on the floor. "I'm good."

Knowing there's no point in trying to get him to leave, Lucifer just sighs and lies back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. They stay there in silence for what feels like hours, but in reality is probably less, until Lucifer finally speaks.

"Did you love Sam?"

Gabriel looks up at his brother curiously, but Lucifer is still staring at the ceiling with a blank expression.

"I still do," he replies.

Pause.

"How did you know?" Lucifer asks.

"How did I know what?"

"That you loved Sam," he clarifies.

"Oh." Gabriel takes a moment to think about that. "I don't know, honestly. I think, if you love someone, you just... know."

"Oh."

"Why?" Gabriel asks, looking up at his brother again.

"Just curious."

"Oh," Gabriel replies without any emotion before asking excitedly, "So, who is it?"

"No one.""Aw, come on! You can tell me! Who is it? And if it's Sam, I'll tell you right now, that's not gonna happen. Is it Dean? I mean, he's not my cup of tea, but to each their own."

"I hate literally every single person in this building," Lucifer deadpans.

"You don't hate me!"

"Yes, I do."

"Okay, but in the bunker," Gabriel reminds him.

"And?"

"And you don't hate yourself," Gabriel clarifies.

Lucifer doesn't respond.

"Right?"

Lucifer's silent.

"Wait, were you including yourself in that?" Gabriel asks.

There's another moment of silence, and just as he assumes Lucifer isn't going to answer, he does.

"When was the last time I did anything right?"

Gabriel sucks in a breath through his teeth as he thinks about this. Giving up, Gabriel says carefully, "Well, 'right' is a relative term."

"Exactly. Never. I'm the least helpful being to ever exist — 'cept Dad and Amara, obviously. I have literally done nothing helpful in my entire life."

"You've kept me company," Gabriel reminds him, completely out of other ideas to reassure his brother.

"No, kept company. If Chuck didn't decide to be the asshole that he is by sticking me here with you, you'd be with Michael, and probably having a hell of a lot more fun than you are now."

"I swear, you get harder to understand every day," Gabriel remarks.

"How so?" Lucifer inquiries, glancing at his brother briefly before returning his gaze to the ceiling.

"One minute, you're throwing people across the room, the next, your professing your love to —"

"It's been forty minutes since I've thrown anyone across the room, thank you very much," Lucifer interrupts indignantly. "And I'm not 'professing my love' for anyone. I'm just trying to figure out how humans work, and since I hate humans and don't want to talk to them any more than I have to, I figured I'd ask the closest person to a human I'm forced into talking to on a daily basis."

Gabriel scoffs. "Great, thanks, Lucifer. Love you, too," he says sarcastically.

They lapse into silence after that. Part of Lucifer wants his brother to leave him alone, but at the same time, he's kind of enjoying the company. It's sort of nice, not being alone all the time now.

Gabriel doesn't really care what he does right now. He can't go talk to Michael, and he sure as hell isn't going to talk to Sam. He might as well just stare at the ceiling in silence with Lucifer. It's better than staring at the ceiling in silence alone.

~~

"I never would have thought they were powerful archangels," Jess remarks once she and Sam are alone in their room, not yet ready to sleep but getting there.

"If there's now thing I've learned these last twelve years, it's that you never judge someone by their reputation," Sam replies. "Seriously, you shoulda see Hitler."

"How did you meet ?" Jess asks. "He's dead. Unless that whole thing was a conspiracy, but I doubt that."

"No, he's dead," Sam assures her. "Dean killed him."

Jess gapes at him. "?"

Sam chuckles awkwardly. Well, this is going to be fun. "Yeah, Dean and I were fighting the, uh, the ," he tells her with exaggerated mystique. "It was — err, ; we didn't kill them all— they're this group of Nazi necromancers that were determined to bring Hitler back. It was an experience, to say the least, and Dean was bragging about killing Hitler for a week straight."

"I don't blame him," she replies. "If I killed the man who caused the second deadliest genocide in recorded history, I'd be pretty proud, too."

"Props on remembering Stalin," he says, honestly meaning it, because no one ever thinks of Stalin.

"I didn't get into Stanford for nothing," Jess replies, shrugging.

"Well, obviously, but that was twelve years ago... which seems like no time to you, right. I'm still trying to wrap my head around that."

"And I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you kill monsters, so I think we're square," she replies with a grin. "But at least I look exactly the same as you remember. You're, like, a full grown moose or something," she jokes.

Sam looks into the nonexistent camera for a moment. "Great," he deadpans.

"No, I like it," she assures him. "Like, now I can practice braiding your hair instead of just doing my own."

"What did my hair ever do to deserve that?"

She laughs, falling onto the bed. "I think you'd look great. Like, maybe, a waterfall braid there or... ooh, I know! Two French braids into a man bun! Or should it be Dutch braids?" she ponders aloud.

"I have absolutely no idea what any of that means," Sam replies.

"I know!"

Sam chuckles and sits on the bed with her. She sits up and slides over next to him, resting her head against his arm. He strokes her blonde hair absentmindedly, earning a small smile that he doesn't notice.

"What're you thinking about?" she asks after a while.

"College," he replies truthfully. "You'd think that college would be simpler than God himself resurrecting you from the dead and sticking is together with a bunch of people," , he adds silently, "but I think this is easier. No classes, no studying; just us."

"Yeah," she agrees. "I mean, I kinda miss going to parties, but I think I prefer having all this time to ourselves rather than classes all the time." She presses a kiss to his cheek. "My Heaven was full of memories of you, and that was nice and all, but they were just that. Memories. Just the happiest moments from our four years together, over and over and over. I'd rather make new memories than relive old ones for all of eternity."

"Amen to that."