So, this came from me reading some fanfics about Sam and Adam in the Cage, and I thought to myself, How would a character like Jo handle the Cage? Why would she even be there? What would Lucifer do? Did he put her there? Why? What would their relationship be? Naturally, I couldn't let these self-imposed questions go unanswered, so I started writing. It actually wasn't this, though; it was a fic about them post-cage. But I didn't like it, because I didn't like writing all that backstory since it felt like it ruined the flow. So instead I started writing this series of moments, which turned into this full-blown fic. It's a different style than what I'm used to, but I'm actually quite pleased with it and I hope you enjoy it too.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. I also don't own The Phantom of the Opera, which is referenced several times. I don't know why, but Lucifer and PotO just kind of work well together.

Cold Comfort

Jo woke up in Hell. It didn't look at all look like she'd expected. No fire, no chains, no elaborate torture devices; nothing but darkness and the distant sound of screams. It was cold, but not unbearably so. Almost like an October morning; just cold enough to make you regret not having a jacket, but not enough to freeze you. It was bare and quiet, like an empty box.

But she knew it was Hell. She could feel it in her soul.

Just like how she knew the man standing in front of her was no man.

It was Lucifer.

And he was smiling.

"Welcome to the Cage, Joanna."

XXX

The first time he visited he hadn't stayed long, just enough to tell her where she was and that the Colt had failed. And by that, she knew he meant the Winchesters had failed. Failed to kill the Devil. Failed to stop the Apocalypse.

Failed to avenge her death.

Despite how much it hurt her pride, the young Hunter curled up into a ball and cried, completely ignoring the Fallen Angel. Before he left, she heard him whisper, "Self-pity won't get you out of here, Joanna. Believe me: I know."

XXX

She found she could sleep in the Cage. At first, it was a welcome discovery, since it was a familiar habit and she had nothing to do. But the nightmares soon made her wonder if it was worth it.

Sometimes, she dreamed of home, of her mom and dad cleaning the bar, laughing and arguing with a familiar ease. She could smell the spilled beer and cold cigarettes from the night before. Then everything would burst into flame; the walls around her turning to ash as her father fell to the ground, all clawed up, holding his insides in with his hands. Mom was already in flame, and Jo could smell the rancid stench of charred flesh. And all the while she couldn't move, frozen in place because she's all clawed up too, left with no choice but to watch her world fall apart.

Other times she'd dream about the boys. Both of them, not just Dean. They'd all be sitting around the Impala, drinking beers and talking after a successful hunt. Dean would make some joke and Sam would hit him, laughing good-naturedly. Then he'd hit him again. And again, and again. Dean would hit him back, hard as he could, and the two would end up in a brutal, all-out brawl. Blood splattered and the muffled sound of bones crunching was sickening. Jo would try to separate them, screaming for them to stop, but they'd just toss her aside. Out of nowhere, they'd draw gleaming silver swords and start killing each other. And again, all she could do was watch, unable to stop her boys from fulfilling their destiny.

There were other dreams, ones about Bobby and Rufus and Ash, even some about Castiel. No matter who or what it was about, it always ended in death, while she just sat there, too useless to save the people she loved.

Jo would wake up in tears, scream stuck in her throat, swearing she'll never sleep again. For days, weeks, even months she'd resolutely stay awake, terrified of the dreams. But it was such a natural, normal habit, and there was so little to distract her. So eventually she would drift off, and the cycle would continue.

XXX

He made a point of visiting her once in a while. She didn't know why, but just when she thought she could get used to the loneliness and darkness, he'd show up, her only warning the flutter of wings.

At first he just stood in front of her, watching as she sat huddled against the wall, both of them silent. After a while he started talking to her, telling her how his forces were growing stronger, or that Sam and Dean were still fighting their destinies. He seemed to take special pleasure in informing her what his demons wanted to do to her, going into graphic detail of the tortures they had suggested (Most of the ideas seemed to come from a demon named Meg). Once he even told her about his plans, that once the filthy humans were gone he'd obliterate the demons, as he considered them just as vile.

Eventually, she started talking back, mostly in the form of insults or declarations that the boys would find a way to kick his ass. She was a Hunter and she was a Harvelle. She'd always fight back. Nothing serious enough to get her killed (Could souls die? She wasn't sure, and didn't plan to find out), but enough to show he hadn't broken her. Lucifer would just smile and tell her to continue hoping.

"There's something fascinating about watching a soul cling so desperately to a tiny candle of hope," he said, eyes gleaming in anticipation. "It's almost a pity when it finally goes out."

She told him where he could shove that candle, earning a laugh.

The Devil never struck her. Never even touched her. There was no retaliation, no physical torture. He'd just stand a few feet away, just enough that she wondered if even the Devil respected personal space.

XXX

Finally, after several visits, Jo lost all sense of self-preservation.

"Why am I even here?" she screamed. Her voice echoed against the silence.

His smile was indulgent, like an adult humoring a child. "Many reasons."

His vagueness infuriated her more. "Then tell me!"

Lucifer reached out and gently brushed her cheek. It was painful how cold he was. "All in good time, Joanna. Patience is a virtue, after all."

XXX

"I have the right to know what I did that was so bad that I landed you as my jailer," she snarled at Lucifer's next visit. She had no idea how long she'd been in the darkness, but she knew time was different there. Ten years could go by and only a month or so would pass on Earth. It didn't make it any less bearable, though.

He laughed, a strange, uncomfortable sound, like music that had been distorted. She got the sense that it had once been a beautiful sound, but had been warped due to his time in Hell. She briefly wondered if that would happen to her.

"You did nothing to warrant Hell, Joanna. That's the point. I brought you here because you deserved Heaven. You died fighting for the Winchesters. A virtuous soul that nobly sacrificed herself for the greater good. That makes you special."

Dirty nails bit into her palm as she clenched her fist, trying to suppress the rage. "So you grabbed my soul and brought me here to screw me over?"

"I brought you here because I thought you might be of use. Sam and Dean obviously cared for you."

"I'm not going to let you use me against them." She may have lost her place in Heaven, but she sure wasn't going to let Hell use her without a fight.

"Heaven would do no different. They'd throw you and everyone else the boys care about into Hell if it would make them say yes. If anything I'm protecting you."

"I don't want your protection!"

The cold bite of his fingertips stung as they lightly stroked her cheek. "It's not about what you want, Joanna." He stepped in close, trapping her against the wall and violating her personal space. He'd never been this close before. "It's what I want."

XXX

He never called her Jo. It was always Joanna. She never asked why.

She was happy he didn't. Her mom called her Jo. Bobby called her Jo. Sam and Dean called her Jo. The Devil would never earn that right.

Sometimes, though, when she was at her lowest, staring into the nothingness of the walls, with no other voices but the muffled screams of the damned, she'd wish for someone—even him—to call her Jo.

But he didn't.

XXX

The next time he visited he found her pacing the Cage like a tiger, restless and aggressive with noting to put her at ease. She lunged the moment she saw him, fists pounding his chest, nails clawing at his eyes, feet striking his legs.

Though it didn't hurt, it rather annoyed him, so he captured her wrists and spun her around, trapping her against his chest as she flailed and snarled. Despite having spent what amounted to decades in Hell, she still had so much fire left in her. Lucifer was impressed. The heat radiating from her virtuous soul managed to penetrate the cold shell of his vessel, warming his dark and twisted Grace like a steaming cup of tea. He took a moment to bask in it.

Jo continued to struggle until she felt Lucifer pull her closer, resting his chin on top of her head. She shuddered as he finally spoke, far too close to her ear for her comfort.

"You seem distraught. Something on your mind?"

Inhaling a slow, steadying breath, she did her best to calm down. His grip loosened in response, trusting her not to attack again. "Nothing you need to know."

"Nightmares again?"

Jo broke from his hold and turned, staring at him in shock. "How did you…?"

"I don't make my presence known during every visit," he said matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

It hadn't even occurred to her that he had watched her sleep. Since she wasn't a Twilight fan, she found the idea incredibly creepy. "Why can't you just leave me alone? What the hell is so fascinating about me that you have to watch me like I'm some sort of bug in a jar?"

"I wanted to see how you were holding out. I know this place can be…difficult." He looked almost compassionate. "I was once a prisoner here too, you know."

For a brief moment Jo felt a small bit of sympathy for the Devil. Then she remembered that he was the one who threw her in there in the first place. "Yeah, I wonder why," she sneered sarcastically.

Gently, he tucked a bit of her flaxen hair behind her ear. "Why, you ask, was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place? It wasn't for any mortal sin, Joanna, but because I refused to love mankind more than God. Is that so wrong? Would you choose to love something so flawed over your own father?"

Admittedly, he had a point, but she wasn't going to let him know that. "Speaking as one of the flawed, I think you're full of crap. And that doesn't give you a good reason to spy on me."

Sighing, he shook his head. "My reasons are my own. But if it bothers you so much, I swear to remain visible every time I visit you from now on."

This both comforted and raised her suspicions. "What's in it for you?"

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nothing you need to know."

XXX

After their last conversation, Lucifer visited more. It was still years for her, but by her estimation he was visiting her at least once a week in normal time. He was touching her more, too. Icy fingers would gently brush her arm. Cool palms cupped her chin. Biting breath ruffled the small hairs on the back of her neck. As cold and disturbing as it was, slowly Jo became used to it. Decades in the Cage had made her forget just how comforting another's touch could be, regardless of how much blood was on their hands.

So despite her brain pointing out that she was letting the Devil himself touch her, she started to welcome it. She didn't mind how they came to linger on her skin, how he would step in close, invading the space he had once willingly given her. But she didn't complain.

It's not like she would have been able to stop him, anyway.

XXX

Her nightmares had been getting worse. Now, she could actually feel the Hellhound's teeth tearing through her flesh, the heat of the flames licking her skin. When Sam and Dean fought, it was even more drawn out, each blow multiplied by ten. Sometimes, they'd turn on her, beating her to death as they told her how useless she was, demanding to know why she couldn't just leave them alone.

There were new dreams, too. Variations of her worst memories: Sam possessed, threatening her with that big old knife. The Horseman War and how he convinced the whole town to start killing each other. Her locked in that basement alone with that creepy spirit. The dreams were draining, and she felt weaker after each one, as if she was beginning to fade away like morning mist.

A few days after waking up from a particularly vivid vision of possessed Sam, Lucifer appeared again. Curious, he knelt before her trembling form, considering her as a scientist might observe a particularly interesting specimen. He took in the pallor of her skin, the dark circles under her eyes. Despite being dead, she looked like any normal person who had been suffering from nonstop night terrors.

"Another nightmare?"

Though obviously rhetorical, she found herself whispering an affirmative. Jo expected him to leave, but was surprised when he sat down beside her. Making himself comfortable, he leaned against the dark wall, his arm just barely brushing hers.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, neither knowing what to say. But the Hunter had had enough of silence. She'd been enduring loneliness and despair and quiet for too long, and if the Devil insisted on being her only companion, he was going to alleviate at least one of those problems. Finally, Jo said, "Talk to me."

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at her. "What do you want me to say?"

Drawing in a shuddering breath, she said, "Anything. Tell me about Sam and Dean, or your plans, or what's going on back home." At the word home she heard him draw a small, harsh breath. It struck a cord deep within her soul, a sort of longing she had never known. "Tell me about Heaven."

Much to her surprise, he obliged, telling her of his brothers and Heaven and what he missed about both. He described beautiful sunrises on the newly-made Earth, and his first time flying. She didn't know why he did it, but she was grateful, as when she drifted off again against his shoulder, she had no nightmares. Only dreams of Heaven and the home they had both been denied.

XXX

It became almost a routine. She still had her nightmares, but whenever the Fallen Angel visited her he would sit next to her and sooth her thoughts with stories of Heaven and the early days of creation. He told her of the Little Grey Fish that was destined to become Man, and how Castiel had almost stepped on the damn thing. Then there was the time he and Michael had accidentally caused a meteor to hit the Earth, killing off the dinosaurs. Of course, Gabriel's antics were the most amusing, as he'd always had a bit of a mischievous streak. The stories both broke her heart and gave her hope, making her long for freedom even more, even if she was still fully aware that she could never escape.

Once, after concluding a story involving Gabriel and a Tyrannosaurus Rex, Lucifer took her chin in his hands and studied her closely. What surprised her was that it didn't feel like he was looking at her face, but assessing her very soul.

Lips pursed in thought. "You seem to be getting a little stronger. The last time I was here, your soul was a candle in the wind, ready to flicker out. Before that, it was barely a dying ember. Are your nightmares still troubling you?"

She wondered why he wanted to know. "Yeah, but it's not as bad, I guess."

"Good. My stories seem to be working. It'd be a shame if your soul fizzled completely."

It annoyed her how blasé he sounded, though she supposed irritation was definitely a sign she was recovering. "Why? Why are you so interested in what happens to my soul? I thought you'd want to see me like that."

Laughter reached her ears, but it sounded oddly forced. "What a peculiar thing you are. I keep telling you that my reasons are my own, and yet you keep asking anyway." He gave her an appraising look, as if determining her worth. He stood and turned away from her. "I suppose I can at least tell you one, since you've lasted this long. I've always been the Cage's sole prisoner. It changed me, turned me into the Devil you see before you. But I've always wondered what it would do to someone else. If it could corrupt a human soul like it did my Grace. So consider yourself a controlled experiment to determine the Cage's effects."

Jo had never done well in science class, but something about that statement was very wrong. "Wait, if you want to see what happens to my soul due to being here, why do you keep helping me? Isn't that contaminating the experiment?"

He frowned, facing her. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the nightmares have been one of the major things taking their toll, but you keep coming by and telling me about Heaven, which as you pointed out are healing some of the effects. Doesn't that kind of miss the point?"

His glare could freeze lava, but she gingerly climbed to her feet and met his stare-for-stare. Even if he was helping her, she wasn't going to take his bullshit any longer. She'd been killed, soul-napped, brought to Hell, and trapped in the Cage with nothing to do but stare at the walls, have nightmares, and talk to the Devil. She may have been weakened, but she was still a Hunter and she was definitely a Harvelle, and she was not going to cower like some pathetic little girl.

Fire met ice, and after a long, silent stare-off, Lucifer finally spoke, cold rage lining his voice. "Fine, then, Joanna. I have been generous to you so far; easing your suffering, protecting you from my demons, many of which have been begging for me to let them tear you apart. I've even been kind enough to tell you about Heaven, about all the wonders that you'll miss. But if you insist that I leave you alone for the sake of letting your soul fester and fade, well, I'll leave you to it."

With that, he was gone, leaving Jo alone in the dark, wondering if he was telling the truth.

XXX

A decade passed, and he didn't come back. Or if he did, she never saw him. The nightmares continued, getting steadily worse as her soul faded from the Cage's influence.

She actually started to miss Lucifer. Despite him being the Devil, bad company was still better than solitary confinement. Yes, he was terrifying and evil, but his presence reminded her that she had been alive once, that her memories of home and her mom and the Winchesters weren't just a fantasy, and that she hadn't spent her whole life in the Cage.

She tried to comfort herself by recalling the stories he told her, but it wasn't the same. It didn't have the same calming power. Her voice didn't have that same resounding tone, that mix of nostalgia, confidence, and longing. She tried to stay awake, but she just kept getting weaker, , as hope was steadily replaced by despair.

But once in a while, she'd drift off, huddled against the wall, praying for some reprieve against the horror. And sometimes, she wouldn't dream of death and pain and fire, but of flying and music and brotherhood. It was a rare occurrence, but it was enough to keep her soul from fading away, reminding her that she was strong and that she was a freaking Harvelle. Hell wouldn't beat her.

She wasn't sure if it was her memories of his stories or Lucifer whispering in her ear while she slept, but she didn't care. She was grateful either way. Her soul was still fading, but it wasn't gone yet. And her will may be cracking, but it wasn't shattered. Every reprieve she was granted kept her going just a little while longer.

XXX

With a scream, Jo awoke from her nightmare, only to find Lucifer standing before her. Blue eyes stared with an intensity she had never seen. He looked mildly concerned, but also desperate, almost starved, though she couldn't for the life of her figure why.

"Lucifer?" she whispered, voice shuddering just a bit. It briefly dawned on her that this was the first time she'd ever uttered his name aloud, but he didn't seem to care.

Instead, he just sat down beside her, pulling her weakly struggling form into his arms. Squirming in his lap, she made a futile effort to escape, but his arms merely constricted around her waist.

"Hold still," he grumbled, and Jo could almost hear a hint of pain in his voice. He had her back pressed against his chest, arms clasped around her, effectively trapping her. His vessel felt colder than usual, like he had been standing in a blizzard since she'd last seen him. Finally, she stopped struggling, too drained from her dream to put up a decent fight.

"What are you doing here?" she sighed, too exhausted to even get angry.

A broken sigh, almost a sob, echoed in her ears. She couldn't believe such a sound could come from the Devil. She gasped when he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his cold breath making her skin tingle. It was shocking how much she had actually missed his touch. It was cold and uncomfortable, but it was more contact than she'd had in at least a decade. It was like a splash of ice water, a reminder she was real. She was a Hunter and a Harvelle, not just some prisoner in Hell. It was surprisingly revitalizing.

"Are you okay?" she asked, licking her lips nervously. It seemed like a silly question, but Jo could literally think of nothing else to say.

She felt his own lips brush her shoulder. "Please stop talking," he growled, though his voice didn't sound as threatening as she remembered.

Frowning, she struggled a bit out of spite. "Hey, considering how you're currently using me as a teddy bear, the least you can do is be a little more respectful." She may be weak, but she was still enough of herself that she was going to take his crap.

Sharp teeth sank into her skin, making the girl yelp. "Be silent!" Lucifer snapped, voice rougher than sandpaper.

She did as he commanded, shutting her mouth and halting all movement completely. Instead, the young Hunter just sat in the Devil's lap, letting him clutch her to his chest while she tried not to shiver from the coldness that penetrated her skin. He didn't cry; just held her like a lifeline without saying a word. He radiated grief and pain, and despite her fear she wondered what could do this to him.

Finally, after what could have been hours, Lucifer lifted his face from her neck. He didn't release her, but his grip did ease enough that she no longer felt so suffocated.

A sharp chin rested atop her soft hair. "Thank you."

Cautiously, she whispered, "What was that about?"

His arms tightened for a moment, as if reassuring him that she was there, then relaxed. He was still cold, but she was a little more used to it, so it wasn't as bad.

After a moment, he said, "I killed Gabriel today." He felt her stiffen in his lap. "He left me no choice! I told him not to make me do it, but he wouldn't listen. I gave him every chance to leave, to go back into hiding. In the end, he decided to play the hero, to turn against his own family, for the sake of you wretched, broken abortions!" Long fingers clutched her forearm hard enough to bruise. "I had no choice," he murmured, more to himself than her. He wasn't justifying his actions to some human.

Deciding not to point out that it was highly doubtful that Gabriel or anyone else had made him do anything, she instead asked, "So you decide to show up and use me as a shoulder to cry on?"

She gasped as one of his hands, cold like a reptile, slithered from her arm, across her chest, and up to her neck to wrap around her throat. It wasn't tight, but it was definitely a threatening gesture.

"You'd be wise to watch your tongue today, Joanna," he growled in her ear. "I am not in the mood. I could easily throw you to my demons and let them have their way with you."

Oddly enough, the threat didn't frighten her. Yes, she was still scared of Lucifer, but his presence had brought her back to her old self enough to think somewhat logically. Calling on a shred of her old confidence, she took a deep breath, willing her voice to keep steady. "You won't. You won't because this means something to you. You've kept me around for a reason, and you wouldn't throw it all away now." She turned her head just enough to see his hauntingly stony face. His expression was cold and blank, the kind that would make even a champion poker player break down. But she was a Hunter and a Harvelle. She wouldn't break. "So what is it?"

There was creeping silence before he buried his face back into her neck. "You're warm," he finally murmured, words slightly muffled by her soft flesh. "Such a decent, hopeful soul, producing so much heat. You're like a furnace, and I've been cold for so long." Lifting his head, he met her surprised gaze, his own eyes filled with desperation. "It wasn't my original plan, of course. I really did want to see what the Cage would do to you, to watch the hope in your eyes get snuffed out like a candle. But you've become something of an addiction."

He sighed. "At first, it was enough to just stand near you. You radiated heat and purity that I hadn't felt since before I fell. It would warm my Grace and satisfy me for a while, but it wouldn't last. I had to keep coming back. As time went on, I needed to touch you in order to get warm. I eventually realized that the longer you stayed here, the weaker your soul became. The guilt, the nightmares, the loneliness: I knew they were taking its toll on you, sucking away the virtuous warmth."

"Then why didn't you let me out?"

Carefully, he turned her around on his lap, making it so they could speak face-to-face. "Because I meant what I said about protecting you. Despite its effects, you've been safer here than you would be anywhere else. As much as I'd like to keep that warm little soul of yours in my pocket so I wouldn't have to keep visiting this loathsome place, it's simply impossible." His hand left her throat and began combing through her hair, gently undoing the mass of tangles that had developed over the years. "Like I was saying, the warmth of your soul was fading, and by that point I was addicted. I was coming back here every week to get my fix, and you were getting weaker. That's why I told you about Heaven. I knew it would give you the strength you needed to keep from fading away."

Jo took it all in. "So you used me as your own personal Grace-warmer." It was more a statement than a question.

He finally managed to undo every last tangle and lazily stroked his fingers through her now smooth hair. Unconsciously, she leaned into his touch, which made a small chuckle rumble in his chest. "I suppose that's an apt description. You should be honored; despite being human, your sweet soul has let me feel the closest thing to my father's touch since He locked me in here."

The confession was nothing short of jarring. It was amazing just how human he seemed right now. Just as she had come to accept his touch for the base comfort of semi-human contact, he had put aside his hatred of humanity for the sake of experiencing the comfort of her heat. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Blue eyes searched her own. "You didn't expect that, did you? That the Devil, an utterly loathsome creature that burns in Hell, could secretly yearn for Heaven."

Swallowing, the young Hunter tried to make sense of things. "What you're saying is, not only did you keep me from going to Heaven, but you're using me as a substitute since you were kicked out."

"Exactly. I knew you were smart for a human."

"Why the hell should I let you keep using me like this, then?" she growled. She hated being used. It was one thing for her to agree to something, like being bait for a Hellhound, but to let Lucifer keep screwing with her soul because she made a good heating lamp? Not freaking likely.

He smiled, running his fingers across her naked collarbone. "Because if you do, I'll continue to keep you safe. I'll keep your nightmares at bay, let you dream of the Heaven we were both denied. No demon or angel will harm you. You'll be safe with me, and all you have to do in return is keep that warm little soul together."

"Let me go. You said so yourself, I belong in Heaven, not Hell. Just let me go."

Lucifer shook his head and sighed. "I also said that they would be more than happy to throw you into Hell if it would make Dean say yes. They don't care how virtuous you are, only that the Winchesters cared about you. They'd torture you themselves if it suited them. I'm keeping you safe down here." He cupped her cheek and made sure she met his eyes. "Think of it this way: it's better to be a servant in Hell than a prisoner in Heaven."

Jo faltered. She hated him. She hated that he was right, that he probably was keeping her safe. Castiel had seemed all right, but she'd heard from the boys about Zachariah, how he'd tortured Sam to try to get Dean to say "yes" to Michael. But she couldn't give into Lucifer. Even though those lonely years without him had almost destroyed her, she'd rather fade away than be a slave to his will.

He seemed to be able to sense her thoughts. "Joanna, I know this isn't what you want, but it's what you need." His hand traced her face as if fascinated by the texture of human flesh. "I need it too. So, though I know it goes against everything you've ever been taught, why not serve your own best interests, which just happen to be mine, and accept my help?"

"I—I don't need your help," she said, but she knew she was wavering. Her morals were duking it out with his logic, and she knew which was winning.

"You can't survive down here without me, and I've grown unwilling to part with you. Why keep fighting when it's so much easier to give in? You could refuse me, of course, but I've already proven that I can get what I want even when you're asleep. Either way you choose you cannot win."

"I can't," she whispered, trying to look away, but Lucifer wouldn't let her.

He forced her to stare into his cold blue eyes, to see the centuries of sadness and longing and hurt that resided deep inside of him. And it hurt her just as much to see it. "Please, Jo," he whispered, voice strained and desperate. "I need you."

She wanted to say no. She wanted to tear his lying, honest tongue out and strangle him with it. Cut off the freezing hands that were the only touch she'd felt in decades. Claw out those sad, knowing eyes so he'd stop looking at her like she was the most precious thing in existence. But she couldn't, because she'd gotten used to him. His touch, his stories, his cruelty disguised as kindness (or was it the other way around?), had marked her in ways she couldn't even explain, like a tattoo underneath the skin; present, but invisible to the world. At this point, she knew losing to him would destroy her.

But most of all, he made her feel useful. So long as she hung on to who she was, she could help him. So long as she kept the fire in her soul burning, he'd come back to her, and in return he'd keep her strong. It was win-win, wasn't it? He needed her like she needed him.

She'd failed her mother, father, Sam, Dean, and everyone else she loved. Heaven and God had failed her, and the Earth was doomed. All she had left was The Cage.

Lucifer wouldn't fail her.

Jo sighed and nuzzled his palm, giving her consent without words. She was his. The Morning Star would be her guardian angel, just like the ones Daddy had told her stories about when she was little. It was madness in so many ways, but she was just so tired of fighting. She wanted to be safe and happy, and if that meant being the Devil's plaything, she'd accept it.

She just wanted to finally rest.

XXX

Lucifer smiled at her consent and affectionately pressed his cold lips to her forehead, triumph welling up inside of him. Finally, Joanna Harvelle was his. It had taken longer than he'd expected, but the end result was well worth the effort. True, he hadn't planned to become so addicted to her warmth, but he considered that to be a sort of unexpected bonus. He might not have wanted to become so dependent on her, but he could work with it. After all, if it kept the dear little Hunter from fading away, he'd gladly keep coming back for more.

Gently, he cradled her against him, softly beginning to sing. It was a hymn he used to sing for his brothers, and he was almost reluctant to share it with the little human. But he wanted more of her, and while the stories were nice, he knew he needed something big to keep her under his thrall. So he sang of Creation, of home and brotherhood and the glory of his father and all the things he had been denied so long.

He almost gasped in pleasure as her soul flared, like a flame that had been splashed with a shot of whiskey. Oh, that felt good, he thought, clutching her tighter. She whimpered a bit as his nails dug into her skin, but gave no other protest. Yes, he'd definitely keep it up if this was the sort of reaction he earned. Maybe, once he'd eradicated all the humans and demons and brought his brothers to their knees, he'd let her out of the Cage. He'd keep her by his side, give her everything she could ever need, and she'd repay him with her wonderful heat. He wouldn't make her a demon like Lilith; she'd be something special, a pretty reminder of humanity, forever serving him however he wished. After all, sometimes even the Devil desires companionship.

He began to sing another song, one he had heard while on Earth.

"Close your eyes, start a journey to a strange new world.

Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before.

Close your eyes and let music set you free.

Only then can you belong to me."

Lulled by the haunting and triumphant melody, the blonde's eyes slowly began to close, too tired and broken to stay awake. As Jo peacefully dozed off in his arms, Lucifer sang of the possibilities, of their place in his great new world.

The Apocalypse couldn't come soon enough.

End

So, what did people think? Love it? Hate it? Let me know in a review. I'm working on a sequel (the concept of which I actually came up with before this), so if you enjoyed this keep an eye out for it. I hope you all liked my characterizations of Lucifer and Jo. This was probably one of the harder stories I've written, mainly because I wanted to keep Jo in character, but I knew the Cage would definitely take its toll on her. Please let me know what you think in a review!