AN: This was a really busy month for me, and if I hadn't written most of this on notebook paper when I didn't have internet access, this chapter would have taken even longer. ThallenCambricaltran and Altyex got me through this chapter, and Thal and Nathyfaith were very dedicated proof-readers that I couldn't have done without! I appreciate them so much.

Sam's bloody nose in this chapter is graphic. Really graphic. It's located in the third section of this chapter and can be skipped if that would make you more comfortable. If it's recognizable, it's not mine.

ENJOY! There Be Puppies. Also. If you haven't read Trickster's Dragons yet, there's no spoilers, but you should go read it anyway because Sahaquiel and Jophiel will be coming back. Eventually.

Sam enjoyed the quietness of the second library. Sigyn and Loki had decided their home wasn't big enough so they had, with input from them all, added another wing to their home. The original library in their home was not huge and Sam was not the only person who liked the idea of a bigger one. It was a pleasant but weird feeling to find out that he was not the only member of his family interested by scholarly pursuits. Hela and Michael had worked some magic so the library was the quietest room in the house. Ambient noise from so many people did not penetrate the walls of the room, so unless there was an emergency, the only noise inside the library originated there.

It became Sam's retreat. He was learning to have a family again, and he loved them, but adjusting was a process. It had just been him and Dean for this entire life. He knew Dean cared, but his brother's insistence that they have "no chick flick moments" meant that they didn't talk about their feelings. There were no expressions of constant worry, or concern, or sorrow, and Dean even hid his love. He was much better at hiding his love than his disappointment, something he'd successfully learned from John Winchester.

But for a family in which more than half of them had been angels in at least one lifetime, well, they were surprisingly demonstrative with their affections. Although part of that may have been for the fledglings. After all, children benefited from displays of affection. Which was an interesting thought. Did their immortal siblings and parents think he and Dean were children because they were so much younger in this lifetime than everyone else? He found that the idea of it didn't bother him as much as it might have before Michael had found him on a mountain he'd teleported himself to in a desire to get away. Michael cared.He wasn't sure he deserved it. John hadn't even loved him unconditionally and he was nothing compared to their immortal family of angels, Asgardian pagans, and wizards.

The library was Sam's retreat for a second reason. He'd started having migraines again, so having access to a room that was perfectly silent most of the time helped. Sam wasn't entirely sure exactly what Michael and Hela had done to the library, but he sometimes wondered if maybe he should ask if they could ward his room or some other secondary room, but he was hesitant about asking for more. He and Dean were already living here. Why should he bother them for more?

Sam shook his head to clear it, moving his hand across the shelf as he tried to select something to read. The choices were amazing. Sigyn's family had been through so many lifetimes and so many universes that the collection was vast. Despite himself, he could imagine spending decades here and reading most or even all of the books.

"That's why they're here."

Sam stumbled backwards and glanced over his shoulder. Hela had been regularly chewed out for sitting on the kitchen table, but someone had decided that the tables here were fair game. His sister sat on the table infinitely more than she sat on any other piece of furniture. So there she was, sitting on the table with a book in her hand.

"Hmm?" Sam wasn't sure exactly what Hela was referring to, but at least she wasn't shouting. He could already feel a headache building behind his eyes. It was going to be a bad one, he could tell.

"The books. For reading?" She made a 'keep up,' motion with her hand. When Sam blinked at her, she rolled her eyes with a "Nevermind," and went back to reading.

Sam rubbed his temples. He really hated the endless stream of headaches. He should go lie down, maybe, but the fledglings had been playing tag in the house again and it was so noisy in his room, even though it was in the new wing.

He looked at the shelf again and saw a book with the title, "Ward properties." That could be interesting, he thought, grabbing it.

The door to the library opened gently, but loud enough for Sam to hear the door opening. He looked over and saw that it was Gabriel.

"Hey, Sam, Hela. Dinner's on the table."

Sam winced. Everyone home was always present at family dinner. It was Sigyn's "thing" and it was always loud. "I'm not hungry. Thanks though, Gabe." Not with the migraine he could feel rising in his head. If he tried to eat now, it was not going to stay down.

Gabriel tilted his head and Sam closed his eyes to avoid that look. His head hurt and he had yet to find any painkiller in the house. He was part of a family of immortal beings that didn't get meaningless pains and if they were injured they could just magically heal themselves or one another. But if he admitted to any of them that he could use some painkiller, they'd badger him about what was wrong and then want to heal him, and he just wanted to be left alone. It was a stupid headache, he didn't need any angelic healing.

Sam glanced down at the book in his hand. It was probably theory, but it wasn't like he knew how to use that type of magic or if he was capable of it anyway. But maybe one of the principles would be useful with what he could do.

"Are you sure?" Gabriel asked. Michael might have pushed, but Gabriel knew that it must have been difficult to suddenly have so many overzealous siblings trying to look after him when he'd taken to putting even his own needs on the back-burner if that was what was required for a given situation. That much had been clear to him when he'd found out exactly what had occurred in the bunker prior to Sam's soul finally flying him away from what was hurting him.

Sam tucked the book into his body with one arm, using his other hand to rub his head as the pain started to pick up. He was already starting to feel queasy, food would not help. "I'm going to bed early."

Gabriel stepped aside to allow his younger brother to pass. He was concerned, but if what Sam really needed was sleep, then he wasn't going to stand in the way of that. "You coming, Hela?"

His sister closed her book and left it on the table. "I'm coming," she said, sliding off the table and joining him. "I think Sam has a migraine." She passed through the door he was holding open and stopped in the hallway, looking at him. "Do you know if he has a history of headaches? He's been in the quiet of the library a lot, and I see him wincing sometimes, when he thinks no one is watching."

"A few years back he had some psychic abilities come up, telekinesis, prophetic visions, exorcising demons with his mind. I'm not sure if anyone knows how much was from the demon blood and how much was natural abilities warped by the demon blood. I wasn't there, but I know that Sam got nosebleeds if he exercised his powers too vigorously." Gabriel closed the door and followed Hela towards the kitchen.

"He's definitely not using them intentionally, we would feel that. But something's up, I think." They were the last to reach the kitchen, but neither Michael or Sam were present for the meal. Balthazar was visiting, which made Michael's absence more surprising to Gabriel.

It was a quiet night when Michael flew Anna to the front yard of Sigyn's house. It was a new moon and a cloudless sky, so he thought it was a little surprising that no one was outside. He was okay with that though, because it meant no one was going to spoil his surprise. He hadn't told anyone what he was doing, as he hadn't been convinced that it would even work. It had though, even better than anticipated.

Michael opened the front door and stopped inside, holding it so that it wouldn't close before Anna could follow him. The quiet outside had been misgiving. Even the quiet moments inside Sigyn's house were noisy, these days. That was no surprise though, not with so many people living there.

It was well past dinner time, but most of his family were in the living room and kitchen. Hela was sitting on the table again. Loki had given up on asking her to move unless meal preparations were underway.

Balthazar was leaning against the wall of the kitchen, Hela facing him. Michael wasn't sure he wanted to know what they were talking about, they had no shame. He looked in the direction of the front door when he heard it open. "Hey, Michael! You missed-"

Anna following Michael through the door cut Balthazar off because in the moment of hesitation she exclaimed, "Balthazar!"

"Anna!"

Balthazar walked towards them but Anna moved faster. There was a resounding crack of flesh against flesh that had even Michael wincing. Of all the things he'd predicted would occur if he brought Anna back, this was not one of them.

She'd slapped him. Anna had slapped Balthazar. They were angels, so no harm would come to either of them, but it still came as a shock.

The handprint was visible and Anna was rubbing her hand. She was still glaring at Balthazar. "We thought you were dead!"

Balthazar swallowed. "Not dead?"

"Samuel is sleeping," Hela cut in. "If you wake him, there will be consequences." She jumped down and picked up a tray that was also on the table. She moved towards the hallway into the new wing and made a 'come hither' gesture at Michael.

The archangel went, deciding that it was probably better to leave Anna and Balthazar to sort out their differences. Gabriel was poking his head out of the living room, watching Anna and Balthazar with an expression Michael was unable to identify.

Hela held out the tray towards Michael. "Can you run this up to Sam's room? He missed dinner, electing to go to bed instead. He was acting as though suffering from a headache, but Gabriel and I weren't certain."

The tray consisted of simple fair, a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers. "What's that for?"

"I'm not sure why we never thought of this, but humans get pains not caused by injury. Headaches, Charlie horses, muscle cramps. Our little brothers might appreciate a bottle of something to deal with it."

Michael wasn't sure he understood why, but he wasn't going to argue with Hela. "I'll take it up." He took the tray from his sister and walked to Sam's room.

Michael smelled blood before he opened the door. Easing the door open, he was greeted with a very dark room and a sleeping hunter. He wasn't sure exactly why he could definitely smell blood, so he put the tray on the bedside table. He watched Sam for a few minutes, but there were no obvious signs of distress, so he turned to leave. Turning around, he saw that he'd missed a book on the floor a few feet from the edge of the bed. Paper cut, then.

He picked the book up to put it back on the table. Ward Properties. There was a bookmark sticking out of the book, but Michael chose not to pry further and left to go back downstairs and make sure Balthazar and Anna hadn't killed each other. He was informed that they had left together. Jor and Castiel were gossiping about it with Hela. Michael really didn't want to know.

Lucifer opened the front door, using the shouting of the angel in the kitchen as a distraction. It was loud in his head. Not Balthazar or Mica, but something else. He didn't know what. But it was making Raphy cry and Gab'ril and Mica were too busy with Sam to make it stop.

So the young fledgling left the house, hoping to make some distance between himself and the buzzing noise that was somehow focused in the house. While Lucifer walked, he found a nice stick. The stick branched off into a fork and he thought it was a very nice stick.

Sam's migraine woke him up. It was blessedly dark still, so he couldn't care that he hadn't slept anywhere near enough. He wondered if a warding spell could make it this dark in his room during daytime. The window blinds couldn't block it all out.

Sam smelled several things. There was a faint food scent, but there was an even stronger one. The sickly sweet and slightly metallic scent of blood. Where was it coming from? He rubbed his nose. It was itchy and slightly odd feeling. Wet, but he didn't think it was running. His hand ended up all wet, and as he looked, he could only tell in the dark that whatever it was, it wasn't clear. He sneezed. Ow , that hurt. The scent of blood diminished momentarily. Oh, shit.

He got up, the throbbing in his head worsening from both the movement and the sneezing. Sam made it to the light switch and closed his eyes when he turned it on. Even just the white he could see through his eyelids was too bright, but he had to look. Blinking against the harsh light, he couldn't help but let in a sharp breath of air. Fuck.

It looked like a crime scene. He had a very bloody nose, and the sneeze had managed to splatter droplets all over the bedding and the rest of the room. He could not deal with this right now.

Closing his eyes, Sam stepped out into the hallway. It was quiet, thankfully. Where was Michael? He couldn't hear any ambient noise, which meant the fledglings at least had probably headed to bed. They needed sleep. Not as much as he or Dean, but some sleep nonetheless. No one else here did, as far as he knew, but it turned out that the Asgardians liked some alone time that was a little different from sleeping, but still quiet and the angels were capable of sitting in silence for long periods of time if they wanted to.

Sam tried Michael's room first. Michael's room had been on the second floor next to Sigyn's, but the fledglings had more or less stolen it for themselves, so Michael had taken a room in the new wing. Sam was kind of glad, because that meant he didn't have to wander the house in this state. The door to Michael's room was open a few slivers.

Tapping lightly on the door, Sam poked his head inside. "Mica?"

Michael had been sprawled the bed staring at the ceiling, legs dangling well over the edge of it. At the interruption, he sat up. "Yes, Sam?" Unlike earlier, he could see the blood on Sam's face and shirt. "What happened?"

Sam walked towards Michael. His head was pounding and he was so glad it was dark in here, but even so, his eyes were squinting against what light there was. He dropped onto the floor at the foot of the bed, his head by one of Michael's feet. He brought a hand up under his nose.

Drop, drop, drop. Michael watched as the blood dripped from Sam's nose, pooling in his hand. That explained the blood, but why was there so much of it? Was that normal? But there was something else wrong too. Sam was squinting and Michael could tell Sam was in pain, but his nose wasn't broken.

"Mica," Sam whimpered again, squeezing his eyes shut. He reached for Michael's foot with his other hand, but didn't touch. He was a mess, but he didn't want to get his filthy all over the archangel. "Please , can you fix it?" He wanted the pain to go away, but there was so much blood too. He wanted the bleeding to stop and the blood vanish.

Michael frowned at the bloodied hand Sam was reaching out to him with. His little brother was denying himself comfort because he thought he didn't deserve it. Careful not to land on Sam, Michael slid onto the floor. Holding out his arms with the intention of offering Sam a hug was all it took to have the hunter falling into his embrace.

Sam couldn't help it. Michael was warm, and with his eyes closed against the crook of Michael's neck, it was dark, too. Michael put a hand on the back of Sam's neck. Sam could feel his grace, but he couldn't see the bright light associated with it and he appreciated that.

The archangel used his grace to heal the blood vessels in Sam's nose and to diminish the pain in his head. He tried to determine the cause of the nosebleed and the migraine, but there was nothing physiologically wrong with him.

"Michael? Do you know that it looks like a combat took place in Sam's room?" Gabriel's voice was in his mind, and he suspected it was because the Messenger didn't want to disturb anyone else unnecessarily.

"He's in here," Michael replied similarly. "Nosebleed, headache. I healed it and cleaned him up. He's asleep, now." The archangel considered the sleeping hunter. " Can you clean it up? "

"Already done." A moment later, Michael's room was inched farther open by the Messenger. Seeing Michael on the floor holding Sam, Gabriel approached.

Michael shifted, making room for Gabriel to sit next to him and Sam, touching them both. Michael moved an arm around Gabriel. His brother exhaled sharply, leaning further towards Michael and taking a small portion of Sam's weight into his own lap.

They sat for hours, until after the sun had risen. The archangels didn't need sleep, but they also didn't get bored and a few hours of a shared quiet was just what they needed.

Sam noticed the pressure behind his eyes before he came to complete awareness. He was sure he'd asked Michael at some point to offer some relief, but maybe that'd just been wishful thinking from his dream. It was nice that his headache wasn't still a full blown migraine, but he was so done with them.

He shifted slightly and was surprised to feel the warm press of another person against him and the cool chill of the floor against his back. Sam peeled his eyes open to find himself pressed between Michael and Gabriel. Light filtered through the curtain over the window and he bit back a groan as it triggered the pressure already building behind his eyes.

"Hey, Sam," Gabriel said, noticing the human coming back to awareness. "How are you feeling?"

Sam screwed his eyes shut. His migraines caused his senses to go into overdrive and he could only be thankful that the archangel wasn't shouting. His hands found his forehead as he tried to push at the pain, of which there was far too much.

"Sam?" Michael kept his voice in a near whisper as he brushed a hand against the hunter's head. He didn't need to be a Rit Zien to know that Sam was feeling discomfort. But he'd fixed the headache earlier. Why was it back already?

There was a crash in the kitchen. "Who drank the rest of my firewhiskey?!"

While loud, Balthazar wasn't really shouting, but the sound still had Sam flinching into Michael's grasp.

Gabriel stood up at the sound of shouting, but at hearing the topic of the ruckus, fell backward into quiet laughter.

"Why are you laughing?" queried Michael.

Tears streamed gently down the younger archangel's face. "I know who took the firewhisky," he managed to choke out.

"Shh," Michael whispered. "You are disturbing young Sam." Sure enough, Sam was wincing and almost cowering into Michael's shoulder.

Gabriel continued laughing, only silently now. Michael gave him a disapproving look and placed a gentle hand on the back of Sam's neck. "Are you in distress, Sam?"

Sam forced himself to breathe, but Gabriel's laughter was like being on a tumultuous shoreline during a gale and his head was the cliff the waves crashed against. He slammed his palms against his ears in a futile attempt to block out the intense buzzing that was making the real sounds even louder.

His nose felt weird again. Fuck, he thought, as blood dripped onto his T-shirt. He liked this shirt, damn it. "Mica, am I broken?" he whimpered.

Michael ran an arm down Sam's shoulder, trying to offer comfort without overwhelming the hunter. There was nothing physiologically wrong with Sam that would account for the bloody nose. Slightly anemic and mildly dehydrated made sense but he didn't have cancer, unusually dry or constricted blood vessels, and he had neither a broken nose or brain hemorrhaging. So why was Sam's nose bleeding so much? And what was this about being broken? Just because he had an unusually persistent bloody nose didn't mean there was anything else wrong.

Michael used his grace to dampen Sam's senses. The sound had clearly made Sam's headache worse. It wouldn't deafen him, but it would probably make the noise more bearable. He also did what he could to numb to migraine and stop the nosebleed. "Hey, Gabriel, could you go get Sam a glass of water and make sure Balthazar doesn't kill Dean?"

Gabriel managed to stop laughing long enough to nod, and stood up again, this time leaving the room and headed to the kitchen. Balthazar was fussing over the empty bottle and Dean was standing in the corner facing him holding his cup of coffee to his face.

Anna stood a few paces behind Balthazar, a confused expression on her face. "What does it matter? We don't need sustenance."

"That's true," he agreed. "But you haven't lived until you've had a glass of this stuff. It's strong enough to get even us drunk!"

Dean choked on his coffee. Gabriel tilted his head in consideration. The hunters would not have come across alcohol from the wizarding world for a multitude of reasons, but it seemed odd that after drinking a little bit that first time that Dean wouldn't have considered exactly how much kick it had. Wizards needed stronger alcohol than the non magical humans for a reason.

"Gabriel? Do you know what happened to the rest of the firewhiskey?" Balthazar asked.

Gabriel shrugged. "You did leave it here to be consumed, does it matter? I'll replace it later, that was the only alcohol in the house."

The angel considered that new information. "Should I not have brought it here, then? Jor and Hela seemed to enjoy the excursion to London."

"That wasn't what I meant to imply." Gabriel saw that Dean was still hiding behind his coffee cup and appeared far too interested in this conversation. At some point he'd probably have to have another heart to heart with the hunter because over-consumption of alcohol was not the solution. Probably.

Sigyn walked into the kitchen carrying Raphael. The fledgling was fussy, squirming and mewling quietly. "Good morning, Slip," Sigyn said. She walked towards the table. "Good morning, Dean. Did you sleep alright last night?"

The hunter shrugged, using the cup that Gabriel knew to be empty by now as an excuse not to speak.

"Hello, Anna, Balthazar." Sigyn glanced at the empty bottle of whiskey. "Don't you think it's a little early to be drinking that?"

"Who doesn't like a little whiskey in their morning coffee?" Gabriel moved to the other side of the kitchen table, standing between Dean and Balthazar.

With Balthazar's attention firmly on the other people in the kitchen, Dean put the empty coffee cup in the sink and made his escape to the library.

Dean liked the library. He wouldn't tell anyone that he liked reading, but that wasn't why he liked the library. Hela and Michael had done something so it was quiet all the time, even when fledglings threw tantrums right outside the closed doors . If Sammy was hiding away in there, Dean chose not to hide in there too, but otherwise it was perfect. Hela spent a lot of time in the library as well, but she wasn't as energetic as some of her siblings and wasn't going to, for the most part, engage in conversation when he mostly wanted to be alone.

It was really weird. He could remember the memories of other lifetimes now that Gabriel had helped by poking his soul. The first universe was clearly the most important, considering that was the only lifetime he'd ever been born as Sigyn and Loki's biological child. He and Sam both. The archangels were downright weird about it. By which he meant Michael and Gabriel. They remembered too and firmly believed that nothing had changed. But Dean didn't really agree with that assessment. Despite remembering everything, he remembered the last 30 years the best. 30 years that had been him and Sam against the world. Not him, and Sam, and their extended family of archangels and pagans. Siblings who seemed to think they'd all been separated for far too long and that it was their responsibility to make up for all those aeons as quickly as possible. But Dean, he wasn't ready for that yet and just thinking about it made his head reel.

"You matter to us." Dean looked up to see Hela standing near him, arms behind her back.

"What?" he croaked.

"That's all. That's it. You matter to us. " With those words, she turned and disappeared among the books, leaving him to ponder her statement.

Why the fuck did she say that? How could he possibly matter to anyone with the possible exception of Sam? Shaking his head, he slumped back and sighed. He wasn't drunk enough for this shit. The firewhiskey had been good shit, especially in his morning coffee, but then it had been gone. The first shot had been stronger than he'd expected, but he'd learned a lesson after that and only put part of a shot in his coffee. That shit was potent, and it was gone. He groaned, and wondered what he would have to do to get his hands on more of the stuff. Probably best not to go to Balthazar, he was pretty sure he had burned that bridge already. Maybe, ugh, which of the others would be more likely to smuggle him some. Maybe, Gabriel? He seemed like he might be the easiest to convince. Maybe he'd talk to him about it. But, later. Now, sleep. His headache wasn't going away and he didn't have any alcohol to drown it out with.

Balthazar watched the hunter leave the kitchen. "He drank the rest of the whiskey, didn't he."

Gabriel nodded, lightly chuckling. "He got absolutely plastered the first time, when he put a whole shot in his coffee. It was hilarious."

"He finished the bottle anyway?"

"It took him until yesterday. I will replace the bottle for you. But maybe you could not tell him you know about this?"

"I probably would not have suspected him first, but I guess it makes sense."

"Gab'ril," Raphael cooed from Sigyn's lap.

Gabriel turned towards the fledgling. "Good morning, Raph."

"Up!" The fledgling flailed, smacking Sigyn in the jaw unintentionally in the process.

"Careful, small one," Sigyn said with a light chuckle, pulling him to her chest.

"Sorry, Sigyn," Raphael murmured tucking his head into her shoulder.

Gabriel stepped towards Sigyn and wiggled a finger against the fledgling's back at the base of his wings. Raphael hummed happily, flexing towards Gabriel. Gabriel smiled at the fledgling and continued to brush his fingers down his back.

"Gab'ril?" questioned Raphael, turning a bit to look at the older angel. "Up?"

"Com' here, little guy," Gabriel said, and reached out to take Raphael from Sigyn. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh-uh," the fledgling mumbled. He didn't resist Gabriel taking him and laid his head on the archangel's shoulder. "Loud."

"Were we too loud last night?" Balthazar asked.

"Not you," Raphael replied. "Is loud."

"Is it still loud?" Gabriel queried.

"Uh-huh, is loud."

Gabriel Raphael's back and then ran his fingers through the fledgling's wings. His brother said something was loud, but if it wasn't them, what could he have heard?

Michael waited as Sam rested. What had caused the migraines and nosebleeds? He sighed. What was taking Gabriel so long with the glass of water? He'd mostly asked Gabriel to get it to get him out of the room, but it hadn't helped. Not noticeably, which meant that he hadn't been the largest factor to Sam's discomfort at that point. So what was the cause?

"Mmm," Sam hummed as he stirred, headache having receded at least temporarily. "Michael?"

The archangel had realized that the young hunter saved the shortened moniker for when he was feeling at his most vulnerable, which suggested he was feeling better. Even if Michael didn't object to his siblings calling him that, for the most part.

"Yes, Sam?"

"I'm sorry for disturbing you last night."

"You don't need to apologize," Michael replied. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah." Sam's stomach growled, concurring. "May I have something to eat?"

Michael helped the youngest of Sigyn's children off the floor. "I believe that Mom is preparing something for the fledglings to eat. Would you like to join them?"

Sam nodded without thinking about it. He loved the fledglings. And unlike Dean, they had yet to scold him for every single thing he'd ever done. He still wasn't sure exactly why he and Dean were welcome here. Was the fact that they were supposedly blood to Sigyn really enough? Family doesn't end with blood and John had not loved them. He had been blood. Even after everything, the archangels still claimed to want them. It was too good to be true. He didn't deserve their kindness.

"Come eat breakfast," Michael repeated. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

Sam followed the archangel to the kitchen. Sigyn was stirring something on the stove, a delicious scent filling the air. Gabriel was holding a sleeping Raphael and leaning against the kitchen table.

Crowley had no idea what to do about the tree and ocean in Limbo. Those ridiculous Winchesters had promised they would go away, but there they were. Trees couldn't even grow in Limbo, and that ash tree was way taller than the ones on Earth could ever grow.

Better to worry about things he really could deal with. Like Lucifer. If the fallen archangel won the battle, he'd destroy mankind and demonkind. The colt wouldn't work. So how to kill the archangel.

Well, Lucifer had gone and disappeared after an epic expenditure of grace that had a signature most definitely not belonging to Michael. So it probably hadn't killed Lucifer. So where was he? He and Lucifer had definitely not parted on the best of terms. Maybe trying to repair that peace a little and prove the usefulness of himself and the rest of demonkind as well, would be the best way to ensure his survival. Or at least increase his chances of it. But what to do, what to do. What could he, Crowley, offer the Prince of Darkness that he could not get for himself? Lucifer had seemed at least moderately reasonable the last time they spoke, or at least more so than when he had initially emerged from the cage, though that was a few too many "if's" and "at leasts" than Crowley preferred to work with. But it was all he had, he supposed. Leaving it off, or ignoring it with any more procrastination would most definitely work against his favor. Knowing the prideful Lucifer would most likely assume that he, Crowley, had assumed him to be unworthy of being a threat, and as always, a slighted Lucifer was a dangerous Lucifer. Crowley shuddered at the thought. Yes, as dangerous as approaching the archangel might be, ignoring him would be even worse. The second problem, as it was, would be actually finding Lucifer to grovel at his feet. Despicable as that would be, Crowley preferred his life to his pride, and it wasn't like he hadn't done similar things before, or like he had his entire pride intact anyways. He had a perfectly fine sense of self preservation, thank you very much, and it wasn't beneath him to squirm his way out of trouble with the occasional false bowing and scraping.

But finding Lucifer. That really would be the most difficult part. He supposed he'd have to employ someone to locate the archangel. As much as he hated the idea, maybe there was a witch or warlock he could bribe into servitude. Who had died recently that was powerful enough to do so? And of course, in Hell. He couldn't exactly access the souls in heaven. Fuck. This would be a bitch, wouldn't it.

Maybe he should just approach Lucifer, after he'd found him of course, and let the angel decided what he wanted. Hopefully, it would be something reasonable and not Crowley's own head on a picket. That would be most unfortunate.

Crowley communicated his desires to Ellsworth, a demon capable of locating the Dark Prince, and found out the location of Lucifer. None of his demons could actually get to the location, they described it as running into a brick wall, but the archangel was clearly on Earth. So Crowley went to investigate.

He could tell where the wards began, but they did not hinder him. The wards were unique and not in a language he was capable of comprehending. They were complicated, written as layers upon layers of varying protections. Why wasn't it keeping him out?

Oh well. Regardless of whatever small flaw it was that allowed him to get through, he would use it. Functionality over rationality, as he'd heard it said. It didn't matter how it worked as long as it did. Maybe that wasn't quite the expression. Hmm. Well, regardless, he didn't have time to worry about such trivial matters. He had work to do.

According to his sources, Lucifer was here and had left infrequently since the explosive use of archangelic grace that no one knew anything about. Was one of Lucifer's siblings keeping him hostage? Or had some other nefarious thing occurred?

His sources also knew nothing about what here even was. Not only could they not get in, but they had also been unable to keep track of the comings and goings of anyone else in the area. Which actually smelled slightly of trap. Why could he get in if no other demons could? That didn't make any sense.

Crowley was in a forest, and now that he was on the inside of the wards, he thought he could get a better idea of who was here. Except that wasn't true. He caught Lucifer's scent, but the few other scents he could identify were masked to him. In fact, Lucifer's scent was the only one he could pin down and follow.

Crowley followed the scent. The other noticeable scent was of thestrals. A multitude of them. Why were they here? Reapers rode them sometimes and there were a few herds on Earth, but they never gathered so many in a place under normal circumstances, at least as far as he knew.

As he kept walking, Crowley passed a small building. It was surrounded by the forest and there were only two scents that were not dog. One of the scents was fresher. He didn't know what the scent was of, beyond the fact that everything about it permeated ancient. Both scents were like that. They smelled like nothing he'd ever smelled before.

The fresher scent belonged to a healthy woman who was beyond old. She'd been happy, but that didn't begin to describe it. The joy in her scent almost masked everything about it, including how ancient she was. Crowley had not met Death or God, but both of these scents belong to beings older than Lucifer himself.

The second scent was male. It was healthy and ancient. He could not have guessed at their age, or even which was older. Did the term deity apply? He'd met pagans, but they were far younger than archangels. Maybe he'd never know. Maybe he didn't want to know.

Crowley kept moving through the forest and eventually came to a spot where he knew Lucifer was not far away. He heard movement on the other side of the trees in front of him. Crowley peered through the branches and what he saw surprised him.

There was a kid standing on the other side of the tree. HIs physical appearance was that of a five or six year old, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He also had visible wings of a vibrant champagne pink hue relaxed behind him. The child was playing with a knobby stick, his entire attention on it.

Crowley blinked. The kid smelled exactly like Lucifer and looked like he had before, except this vessel was much younger than before. Demons did not often inhabit children as vessels, though Lilith had been an exception. Angels and archangels required consent, though, Lucifer included. Could children even give consent? Well, it mattered not. He was here to do whatever was necessary to stay on Lucifer's good side, which very likely meant saying nothing about the vessel even if it was unusual.

The demon stepped around the tree. "Sir?"

The fledgling looked up from his stick at the vaguely familiar voice. "Who you?"

Crowley noted that the child sounded more curious than demanding. "You don't remember me?"

Lucifer squinted his eyes and stared at the larger man seeming to concentrate. Then his face cleared. "Oh," he said dismissively. "You're Growley."

Growley. That was a new one. Well, he'd been called worse in the past. "Yes, I am."

The boy's concentration already drifting back towards his stick, "Why 're you here?"

Crowley considered the archangel. He wasn't acting like an adult. The speech and behavior were almost more indicative of a child. The fuck had happened to the Lord of Fire and Brimstone? This wasn't even a Boy King. This was like… a baby. Well, either way, or whatever had happened to him, it would likely be reversed soon. Maybe this… less volatile, Lucifer, would be easier to appease. Or maybe Lucifer was fucking with him! Both were likely options. A quick glance at Lucifer revealed that the kid had already returned his complete attention back to the stick he was waving around and appeared to be pretending was a doll. How strange.

He was here to appease Lucifer who seemed to be in an unusually good mood. Maybe it was a kinky thing and he should really be leaving? Probably not though, since there was no one else here for him to be getting kinky with. Well, he was here now and he wasn't sure yet that he ever wanted to come back, so he'd better just get this over with. He was here to earn Lucifer's favor by any means necessary. "My Lord, as you know, I have been watching over Hell in your… absence." Please let that be the right word. "And so I am here now to check-in with you, so to speak."

Lucifer looked up from his stick upon hearing Crowley speaking again. He wished the adult would stop bringing up grown-up things. Just because he remembered the Cage didn't mean he wanted to think about it. Mommy and Daddy loved him, and so did Mica and Gabby and Raphy. They weren't going to put him back and he didn't need anybody else that wasn't his siblings. "Yes, good job Growley, do that." There, maybe now he'd leave.

Crowley blinked. Why was Lucifer praising him? This was not going according to plan. Not at all. Maybe a gift was in order. Lucifer liked things. "I would provide a token to you, as a show of our good faith." Crowley winced lightly, bad choice of words, he probably shouldn't mention faith in Lucifer's presence. "To, um, each other and of my servitude."

Lucifer tilted his head in confusion. Why was he being so long winded? Mica always used little words and short sentences. They were easier. He could use big words, but it took longer and they were dumb.

Crowley felt suddenly nervous at the scowl that had crossed Lucifer's face. He'd better fix this before Lucifer lost his patience and smote him on impulse.

"Sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to impede, please, excuse my offer of a gift, I meant nothing of it." He slowed as Lucifer's face cleared.

"Gift?" he asked the demon. He liked gifts. Gifts were good.

The demon blinked, confused at this sudden turn around. "Yes, a gift, to give to you, as your humble servant."

"Okay." Maybe he would leave after that, Lucifer thought. He didn't need a servant, his family took really good care of all of them. But he did need gifts. "Okay. Where gift, Growley?" he asked.

Shit. Normally in his interactions with Lucifer, he'd offer and the archangel would make his demands known. He had no idea what the young version of the Dark Prince might want. "Oh. Um, well Sir, what would you like?"

Lucifer's eyes lit up in a way that the demon found very disconcerting. Yep. He was definitely going to ask for his head on a stick.

"Puppies!" Lucifer himself knew exactly what he wanted. A few days earlier, he'd overheard Sam and Gabriel talking about them and decided he wanted one, so he'd asked Mica and Mica said no. But this person made it sound like he'd give him anything he wanted. And Luci wanted puppies!

The demon found himself blinking again. "Ah, well then. What kind of puppies would you like?"

Lucifer thought on this, before very gravely replying, " Baby puppies, Growley."

"Yes, right," Crowley replied solemnly. "Baby puppies are the best kind." Lucifer nodded in agreement. Where was he going to get puppies? Wait. Hadn't his best bitch, Daisy, just whelped a nice litter? Those were puppies. And relatively archangel proof, at least compared to regular dogs. He could offer Lucifer the pick of the litter. They were just old enough to separate from their mother, too.

"Well, then," Crowley said, "I will be right back." Without waiting for acknowledgement, the demon vanished from the spot.

Finally! Lucifer thought. He was finally alone! And maybe Crowley would even follow through and bring him puppies! The fledgling returned his attention to his stick. It was a nice stick. Maybe he should take it inside and show Mica what a nice stick he'd found. He'd leave out the part about Growley. Mica didn't need to know about the person who had promised him puppies.

Crowley returned ten minutes later with his arms full of squirming puppies. Lucifer didn't notice. He was too busy entertaining himself with his tree branch.

"Sire? I brought puppies for you to choose from." In Crowley's grasp there were three hellhound puppies and he carefully moved to set them on the ground.

"Puppies!" the young archangel cried, temporarily abandoning his stick as the newly freed puppies descended on him in a wave of pink tongues and fluff.

Crowley watched as Lucifer became acquainted with the puppies. "Sire?" he asked a little while later. "Have you decided which puppy you would like to keep?"

"All the puppies!" Lucifer exclaimed.

Crowley wasn't about to argue with the archangel. He especially wasn't going to underestimate him in this form. The demon still suspected Lucifer was waiting for him to screw up so he could be justified in smiting Crowley. That day would not be today. "Yes, Sir. That's why I brought you all the puppies. Is that everything, Sire? Might I be dismissed?"

Lucifer pulled himself away from the puppies long enough to look at Crowley and say in a tone as superior as he could, "Goodbye, Growley."

Now that his goal had been accomplished, and his nerves fried, Crowley was not going to stick around. He'd just lost an entire litter from his best bitch, but at least it wasn't his head on a pike. Daisy would breed more pups another time and maybe he would learn to keep his mouth shut.

The demon disappeared with Lucifer barely noticing because he was too busy tousling in the grass with the three puppies. Three . What to do next. Mica wouldn't be happy, but that didn't mean he could stop him from keeping the puppies.