absque

The room was small, hunched in upon itself, almost cozy, dark and brown and intimidating only when it was unfamiliar.

Sam sat quietly, as he always did when he dreamed. Lucifer, not far enough to seem distant, but not near enough to seem close, followed suit. Sam half brooded as he sat, folding and refolding and folding a tiny, white paper crane.

Lucifer was entranced.

As soon as Sam completed it, it came undone in his hands. It was small and sharp for a moment before it was a rumpled piece of cloth.

And Sam seemed content with the dream - of course, unless Lucifer pointed it out, there was no reason for Sam to be anything else. Such was the way of dreams - they carried a strange surreality about them only after they had transpired. During, however, they were the most like reality than any other thing to the mind, not having futures or pasts, like one moment turning in and out and in again, a tesseract in simple rotation, clay being kneaded into itself, or the reincarnation of a white paper crane.

Just as Lucifer decided not to interfere, Sam's gaze flickered up to him.

The paper dissolved in his hands and suddenly there were sparks running along Sam's mind as he recognized Lucifer, and his conscious mind hummed into being. Lucifer could have chosen to let Sam actually dream about him, to keep the simple sort of openness that seemed to infuse itself as Sam while he dreamed. Lucifer would have quite enjoyed it, he thinks.

But Sam would not likely forgive that once he woke and recognized the intrusion, as if Lucifer had made him drunk instead of sober, had taken advantage.

Sam huffed. "It took you a while." He says, just a hint of surprise.

Lucifer smiles thinly, "Nonsense. I've been here since the beginning. You only just noticed me."

Sam frowns, and Lucfier knows already the dream is floating away on ice flows as Sam floods his mind in a warm rush of spray and sea. Or rather, Sam's mind floods Sam.

Sam looks out of the window, which moments before had only held grey space, and now dragged itself wider until it rested in the wall like a door. Outside, the night was alive and bright. There stars crowded the sky as morning dew upon blue black roses. It spilled light into the room, the tiny pricks of light glinting coyly from the boards.

Lucifer was pleased that Sam preferred the sky without pollution.

Sam sighed, and sagged back into his chair.

Outside, the stars began to whirl and dance. The shadows cast from the window became cranes, lifting off the sill into the shadows and oblivion of the rest of the room, hundreds, thousands, silently coming into being and just as quickly leaving.

Sam watched for a while, and Lucifer watched him.

Then, when the last crane had gone, he steeped his fingers and rested his chin upon them.

"Can I ask you something?"

Lucifer hummed agreement, still caught in the last vestiges of tranquility the dream had flushed the tiny world with.

"Tell me a story."

It was not a demand, but it was not exactly a question. It was more a request.

Lucifer looked at him then, curiously, surprised, though he would never say it. Sam lifted one eyebrow in challenge, did not smile or frown or look away.

Lucifer sighed.

He did not think this dream deserved to hear about the Cage. Not how Heaven had been before humanity - or after, either. Something sharp was in Sam's gaze, and Lucifer knew Sam was giving him a test.

What could he say?

I used to dream, in a sense.

Sometimes, when my brothers had all crowded the Earth beneath and Heaven was the only place empty and still, I would retreat there.

And I was not annoyed with them, for we were all enamored by what God created, but I liked to enjoy it in silence, too, and we were all getting used to...creation, really, life. We are alive in a different sense, unmarked by time, by change.

And I would be so thankful for God.

And sometimes, sometimes I would wonder what would be without God.

I would try to imagine a world before God.

It was always very upsetting.

The vast tendrils of space ever reaching out, ever looking for him, ever expanding in search of God.

I would pull myself into something like a dream, and get lost in the ache of an existence where God was not.

(Now I realize I never thought of a world after God. It was an impossibility to me. I knew there had been a world before God, so that was comprehensible. But I never thought God would forsake us.)

I thought that was the worst possible situation, to find myself alone in a world never touched by God.

And in some ways, it is. More than nothingness, for God created that as he created everything.

And in this place, I imagined myself existing without God. Perhaps waiting. Perhaps lost.

And I realized that without God's influence, I would not even have an angel blade.

And I would float on for eternity, alone, nothing able to kill or free me.

Nothing to end it.

And that, I thought, was the most terrible thing.

And then father left, and Michael blamed and cast me out of heaven, hoping to draw Him back, regain whatever lost favor lived between He and us.

But you see, I could not love above my Father, especially for creatures so flawed.

Father announced his new and favorite creation, told us to love them above him, then disappeared.

Do you understand?

It was even worse.

At least alone I could keep my absolute love of God. But before he left, he asked that I give that love up, bend it around to things so wrong and incomplete and unworthy. To find solace in a sinful soul rather than the Grace of God.

But then he left. And we were alone. And I was terrified.

When Michael cast me into the Cage, I found peace.

There was the void, untouched by God. He had left it unmarked, and this was my prison, and this was my punishment.

And I stayed alone in the Cage for millennium in a Godless world.

And I could not end it, for Michael had not even thought to leave me my blade.