Lucifer was surprised at how easy it was to find him. Castiel search all over and couldn't locate him because he never expected their father to take up such a small, un-grand and yet obvious form. But Lucifer knew better. He knew the differences between the word of God and the word of Metatron and the word of a prophet. Their father worked hard to hide this time, though even he couldn't help to meddle in things.

Finding him was easy. Knocking on the door was hard. It was plain and green and the whole neighborhood was so human it was disgusting. And this was the setting for where Lucifer would once again speak to his father. He could imagine some grand battle but he knew it would never be. God could destroy Lucifer with the wave of his hand, which was maybe why it hurt so much that their father had Michael do it. Lucifer wasn't even seen as a big enough threat for God to smite him himself.

Even if none of that were true, Lucifer doubted that his father would allow a fight to happen between them. Lucifer could feel the exhaustion even in the words of Carver Edlund, Chuck Shurley. He'd really been disgustingly easy to find.

Lucifer drew up that feeling of disgust and used it to drive his knocking on the door. He waited for a moment and was surprised to find a blonde woman answering.

"Hey, can I help you?" the woman asked. Her eyes flicked to Nick's face and the damage that comes from it holding in something to powerful for itself.

"I'm here to Chuck," Lucifer said.

"And who are you?"

"Nick," Lucifer answered instantly. The woman looked him up and down and then looked past him toward the street.

"Are you a friend of Sam and Dean's?" she asked, perking up completely. That surprised Lucifer a bit. This woman was completely human. There was nothing angelic, demonic, or otherwise about her. How did she know?

"We are acquainted, but I wouldn't call us friends," Lucifer said.

"Oh," the woman said her face dropping a bit.

"Becky," a very male voice came from inside the house. Lucifer wanted to laugh at how sniveling it sounded but it thrummed deep in his heart, a desperate need that he'd had for thousands of years now. He shivered. It wasn't that cold outside, but he was always cold.

"Chuck, he knows Sam and Dean," 'Becky' said, turning to look at 'Chuck'. Lucifer can see her too large smile from the side. She's not classically attractive, but she's very enthusiastic. But then his Father never had the same standards of beauty that everyone else did.

"I know," 'Chuck' said, sounding grave. His eyes flicked over to Lucifer, and Lucifer wished that he didn't feel so hurt by the unwelcome gaze. This was his father, and Lucifer still loved him. "Becky, why don't you go buy ice cream like you were talking about."

"But Chuck-"

"Becky," the voice 'Chuck' used was powerful, not be questioned. By the look on Becky's face she had never heard it before. "I'll explain later, I promise I will. Just please."

"Okay," Becky said, glancing at Lucifer again. She kissed Chuck's cheek and her hand idly twisted in his beard like it was a normal, familiar motion. Both men waited while she gets her purse and coat and leaves out the front door.

"Come in," 'Chuck' said finally. When Lucifer steps in he shut the door behind him. The opening was narrow, but 'Chuck' moved around Lucifer easily, never touching him. Lucifer could feel heat coming from 'Chuck', a warmth that Lucifer desperately wanted to curl around.

"I wonder if I should feel surprised. You've got native," Lucifer said, sneering.

"Yes, yes," 'Chuck' said. "Go sit down, I'll find the vodka Becky's hidden from me. I think we could both use it."

"And you can't just snap your fingers and call it in," Lucifer said in disgust, throwing himself down on the old sofa. It was weak and uncomfortable.

The whole apartment was like that. It was so human, like it didn't realize the majesty it held. Lucifer didn't remember heaven, probably a blessing, but he remembered the companionship with his brothers and sisters and how they acted around him. And he knew when he walked into palaces that humans made to make themselves feel like gods, and the cathedrals humans built to honor God that all he felt was disgust and frustration. Nothing measured up, nothing compared to something Lucifer couldn't even remember. He couldn't even remember God's love and warmth anymore, only that deep aching need that he could never fill.

"Yes, but searching his half the fun," 'Chuck' said from the doorway to his kitchen. "And Becky is really good at hiding things, but then I haven't looked. Ah, here it is." Lucifer heard a slam in the kitchen and he stood up, going to see what happened. Chuck was standing next to a piece of wall that had popped open.

"What? Like you don't booby trap your house?" 'Chuck' asked. He took the bottled out of the wall and found large glasses. "Go, sit down."

Lucifer did as he was told, going back to the lumpy sofa and sitting down. He watched 'Chuck' sit down in one of the other chairs and pour the vodka into the two large glasses exactly even before pushing one of them over to Lucifer. Lucifer picked up the glass, eyeing the contents. There was a lot he hadn't done, having been stuck in hell. Alcohol was one of those things.

He watched 'Chuck' take a gulp. So he followed suit. He raised the glass to his lips and chugged. His only response was a little gasp and to set the glass down quickly. Fire. He was drinking liquid fire and his burnt his mouth and tongue and tasted like hell. But then it slipped down his throat and into his stomach and for a second he just felt warm, and the aching cold he always felt thawed a little, just for a moment.

"I knew you'd like it," 'Chuck' said. Lucifer wasn't paying attention like he should have, or he might have heard the sadness hidden until 'Chuck's' words.

"You did something to this," Lucifer said. He didn't open his eyes, but him thumb ran across the top of the glass.

"No, it's just very expensive, very human vodka," 'Chuck' said. He took another gulp of his own. "Not that I'll get the drunk affect when I'm tuned in to who I am. You won't either, probably. It never occurred to me that angels could get drunk until Gabriel started making valiant efforts into that area of research."

Lucifer met his father's eyes before taking another deep gulp of vodka. It was awful and wonderful just the same and he felt like his father would take it from him if he said what he meant to say at that moment.

"I killed Gabriel."

"I know. I wish you hadn't. You really hurt him, Lucifer. It wasn't as fast as you should have killed him because you hesitated. He was terrified."

"I know, shut up, I know!" Lucifer snapped. He could see that fearful look in Gabriel's eyes all the time. Gabriel had been, besides Michael, the person Lucifer had been the closest to. Lucifer felt remorse for every one of his siblings that he killed or had killed, but it was just a drop in a bucket of that deep chasm in his chest. But Gabriel's death hurt him. He ached from it.

"You could bring him back," Lucifer said suddenly. He knew before 'Chuck' opened his mouth what he would say, but that didn't mean that the hope wasn't there. "You brought Castiel back, you could bring back Gabriel."

"But I'm not going to," 'Chuck' said.

"You could bring him back, but you will not. What kind of love is that?" Lucifer mocked. It hurt, it hurt so badly that Lucifer wanted to cry. But his pride made him glare and keep his face straight.

"It doesn't work like that Lucifer, you know that," 'Chuck' said. Lucifer remembered gentle chastisements from the dawn of time. His father had spoken to him so often like that, patient with a bit of disapproval, and love. He remembered that love for just a second and when he forgot he couldn't remember ever having felt so empty.

"Why, why does it have to work that way?" In Lucifer's own mind he sounded like a child and the shame for that noise would haunt later, but nothing compared to that emptiness. He wanted his brother back. He wanted to be back home with his brothers, where they were loved. He didn't just want to be forgiven, he wanted to have never made the mistake. And worst of all: he couldn't see it happening any different no matter how many times he went back or how much he knew.

'Chuck' sighed heavily and took a good sized swig from his glass. His breath came out in a gasp. Lucifer knew he was stalling for a moment.

"I've heard thousands of humans think about how hard it is to wake up every morning and go to work and how amazing it is the amount of work their mothers put in every day to make dinner when they themselves can't even be bothered and how frustrating it is to keep having to make the same choice over and over. They wish they had a button they could push just once and for all their anger at the ability to make choices, I have that to a level there are no words for in any language. There is no way to express it. I make the choice one hundred billion times every one hundred billionth of a second not to just destroy everything and start over. I made a plan, and that plan is what keeps me from doing things I would rather do."

"Like your plan as worked," Lucifer said bitterly. He chugged his drink, letting the burn fill that voice he felt for just a moment so he wouldn't feel alone.

"I see every possible combination, everything everything can ever do, every possible person to be born and all of their choices and I see every possible outcome for everything. And I sometimes will nudge someone away from something I don't like, or nudge someone toward something I do to try and make it a little more fair, and then I wait and hope that the ones I have sent out will do the jobs I have sent them to do."

"A plan for every person," Lucifer said, remembering. "And what about me? Was I part of your plan."

"Yes."

Lucifer let out a laugh. He had suspected for so long that he too had been little more than a tool. "Is this why I ache so much, because I am bitter about being unable to choose?"

"Don't blame this on me, Lucifer. You know how frustrating it is when people blame you for things you can't have done. You made your own choices. I knew one of you would question me, not just a momentary question but you would push so hard I'd have to knock you down. It would happen and I would make an example of the one who disobeyed, so that everyone could see that there was consequence to the choice they had."

"So I am just a pawn."

"I didn't want it to be you. I knew it was a possibility. All of you were a possibility. But your possibility was so much smaller than your brothers. I thought it would be Michael or Raphael and I just wished and wished that it would not be them. I didn't want it to be any of you, but I just wanted it to not be them… and then it was you."

Lucifer was surprised at what he saw: a man, a drunk, filled with regret. He was married to the bottle because that was easier, it covered the sadness and filled the void. Lucifer sipped his drink because he didn't know what else to do. He watched his father do the same. Not so alone, that was what Lucifer felt.

"Why Michael?"

"He is boastful," 'Chuck' said.

"And Raphael?"

"He hates humans even more than you did, but he tried so hard to not, and he didn't act on it. And then you fell and he really tried to act as he was supposed to," 'Chuck' said.

"Why didn't you just smite me, if I was to be the example?"

"I needed a living example, and you were the best for it. I was so… angry at you. Why, couldn't you have just done as I asked? I love you so much, why have you made it impossible for me to not punish you. And I tried to not Lucifer, I did. You told me no and I grew angry and sent you to earth in hopes you would change your mind."

"And then Lilith," Lucifer said, looking down into his drink. He tipped his head back and drank as much down as he could. When he set the glass back down it was just as well as when 'Chuck' had first poured it. The burn didn't change or lessen and Lucifer wondered just how much he'd have to drink to make the pain go away.

"And then Lilith," 'Chuck' said. "And I couldn't ignore what you'd done. You were the example I had to make, the one I didn't want to."

"Yes, didn't want to," Lucifer sneered. He knew it was to protect himself.

"I did not, Lucifer. You were my greatest angel, the best, the brightest, everything I wanted you to be. I took too much pride in you, I allowed too much. You are my child, my beloved and I hate it when you are hurt."

"You hate it when each of your creations are hurt."

"I considered not punishing you as I didn."

"But you did anyway."

"But I did anyway, because I looked at you and I then I looked at all my other angels and all my humans and all the ones yet to come and everything I made that could think. There had to be a cautionary tale. People had to be informed of what would happen if they crossed their boundaries. You cannot truly give people a choice without allowing them to see every side. I had to show the punishment, and you put yourself into a place where it had to be you."

Lucifer just looked at 'Chuck'. He'd examined every possibly way for it to have ended differently. He tried so hard to blame it on his father. But sometimes it came back to himself, what could he have done differently? In truth he chose to try and act out against an immovable object and he was smacked down for his troubles.

"I don't get to win this war," Lucifer said.

"You could win something," 'Chuck' said. "But not the way you're going about this. You don't want what you think you want."

"I want them all dead. They destroy all the good you have created. I will take this world back to as it should have been before." There is so much anger. Lucifer's smart enough to know when he sounds like a petulant child, which his arguments have already been diffused. He said it anyway because it was easy.

"If you accept that I have a plan then you must accept that they were part of it. I made them to be flawed. Their flaws are beautiful because they are pure choice. And you know how beautiful what we work the hardest for is. A soul that has tried all its life to be good, or has tried to make up for a mistake is so bright and beautiful and lovely."

"And a soul that turns from you is ugly and sticky and dead like tar," Lucifer spat.

"I will tell you a secret, Lucifer, sometimes I do hate them."

"Really?" Lucifer asked, his breath catching.

"I never don't love them… but sometimes I hate them. I look at them with their wars, in my name, and their killing in my name and that amazing creative destructive forces and I think 'why, why did I sacrifice Lucifer for them? Why do I keep doing this to him?'"

"Why?" Lucifer asked. His hands gripped his glass to keep from reaching for his father. He was so close to the light and warmth that would close up that ache. He was so close and he couldn't make the move.

"And then I start to think. I think about how many people try and how many every day miracles people make, and I think of what you did. You can come back to me, Lucifer."

"If I beg for forgiveness," Lucifer said. He knew, he was aware. He wanted that voice filled, but he wanted to be right and he wanted to be angry and he wanted to rip into the ones who facilitated his pain even more.

"I love you, Lucifer," 'Chuck' said. "If you would return to me I would forgive you and I would give you everything you had before. I want, so deeply do I want you to come home to me."

"You have had me locked away."

"Nowhere that I can't reach. There is no where I can't touch, no universe I can't affect. If you ask for me I will take you out of there."

"I'm not going back."

"I do not believe this is true," 'Chuck' said.

"Michael's not supposed to lock me up again, he's supposed to kill me."

"The Winchesters don't plan to kill you."

Lucifer took a sip of his drink. "You're betting on them?"

"I think I like best what options are open from what they plan to do," 'Chuck' admitted.

"And what would you have me do?"

"Play your part," 'Chuck' said.

Lucifer sat back, thinking about the huge flow of information he'd gotten. His father wasn't normally so often, but for once he'd gotten answers to his questions. He looked into his father's eyes and knew, just knew that his father wanted him to come home.

"I can't come home yet," Lucifer said, and it was painful just to admit it. No torture of hell could relate to the voice he felt.

"Play your part, Lucifer. If you will do that and you work then one day you might be able to come home. But I can't take you with that anger."

Lucifer felt like sulking. He did sulk. He hadn't been able to just be a child in a very long time, and that he could pout and whine felt like a relief. "Why do you keep bringing Castiel back?"

"Because he stands for something too," 'Chuck' said.

"What?"

"Choice… the ability to chose that you angels had all along and refused to see."

"Why not make Gabriel that symbol?"

"Gabriel chose to run from fear. Castiel chooses because of his devotion. And he will make mistakes that I believe might even rival some of yours." The two stopped for a moment and shared a small smile. Of course the memories hurt, but Lucifer wasn't alone for a moment. "But he will be the one the angels can follow, like David was the one the humans could follow. He will be as David, a man after my own heart. An angel after my own heart."

"You have a lot of faith in him," Lucifer said.

"He tries. That is all I can ask of anyone."

Lucifer hesitated. "And me?"

"Try," 'Chuck' said.

"Can I ask… one more thing?"

"Yes, but Becky will be back soon, and I do owe her and explanation."

"Will you take her back with you?"

"Is that your question?"

Lucifer looked a bit sheepish. "No."

"If I can I'll live with her here. It's nice to be human for a while. But ask me your question."

"The void?"

'Chuck' sighed so heavily, his shoulders slumped. "I give people what they want, and if what they want is away from me I will give them that. The void is the lack of me."

"I hate it," Lucifer whispered.

"I know," 'Chuck' said. "And I wish I could embrace you and fill the void, but nothing would change and I would have to take it away again, and that would hurt more."

"But you can fill it."

"I will if you'll return to me," 'Chuck' said, "Try not to forget too much of this conversation.

Lucifer blinked and when he opened his eyes he was somewhere he didn't recognize and he didn't remember where he'd been, only that he'd spoken to his father for a long time and he had many questions answered. He couldn't remember the questions, only had the frustrating feeling that he wasn't ready for the answers yet. He couldn't remember what his father looked like either. All he could remember was one word: 'try'.

A/N: Written in response to a discussion I'm having on tumblr with amayakumiko, to whom this story is dedicated.

I would like to add that God!Chuck is like 50/50 my head cannon depending on the day.

So much blasphemy, so little time. I do want to apologize for even trying to write this. I hate quoting Percy Shelley, but the visions I had are ashes on the page, I swear.