Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: Set in Season Five, after an alternate version of episode 'Abandon All Hope...'

DANCING IN THE PALE MOONLIGHT

Jo had never thought that one day she'd meet the Devil. But here she was, watching him through the slot in the panic room door. He looked like he was meditating. Somehow his entire body appeared relaxed and composed, despite being handcuffed to a bed, surrounded by wards that made him a prisoner until his already-low angel juice ran out. Then the handcuffs and locked door would ensure that he didn't escape.

His borrowed body was getting thinner and more gaunt. A hunger strike didn't seem likely and while Dean was definitely pushing for an execution, Castiel had vetoed the idea. Even Dean couldn't out-stubborn him. Sam had supported Cas, looking mulish and haunted. Lucifer could have food if he wanted.

He was probably reading her mind, like Cas still accidentally did sometimes and always apologized for. Jo was sure that Lucifer didn't apologize for anything.

Lucifer's eyes stayed closed. But he smiled.

The spirits hanging around in the paintings hadn't been thrilled to see them and Jo had the bloody scratches on too many inches of her skin to prove it. It would have gone a lot worse if Cas hadn't shown up.

That family was sleeping safe tonight. Without a daughter. Jo could still see the little girl's room spinning behind her eyes, all soft purples and whites and the obviously well-loved stuffed lion.

"Clara took him everywhere, to keep her safe."

Jo had showered, her hair was wet past her shoulders. But the smell of guts and blood still burned in her nostrils. Down here past the basement, it felt quiet and empty. It had always been her favorite place at Bobby's and tonight she really needed its silence and space.

When she pressed her sleeve to her face, she could still smell her Mom.

Jo had a soda and a cheap hotdog knock-off that tasted halfway okay now that she'd smothered it with mustard and loaded the uneven slices of bread with onions. She hummed the incantation that Bobby had been working on for tomorrow's road trip under her breath, deliberately slurring the rhythm, just in case.

The wall was cool against her back and Jo closed her eyes, the rhythm a vibration in her throat now, the silence punctuated by the crunch of onions. She could probably say the words backwards. She was note perfect.

Don't get cocky, Joanna Beth. You're gonna fall right on your ass.

"You have a very pleasant voice."

Jo's breath stuttered. Right, not so empty. She'd thought he was asleep and so had been able to block out the fact that he was there at all. She twisted her head up to look. Dean must have recently cuffed him to something closer to the door. Lucifer looked curious. The humming had moved from Jo's throat to under her skin. The Devil was staring at her.

She swallowed a mouthful of hot-dog and mustard.

"I'm not planning a career change."

Lucifer's eyes swept her thoroughly, like he was weighing and measuring what he saw, calculating her bones and muscle and flesh. Jo focused on her dinner. She stretched out her legs, flexing her toes experimentally, taking in the layout just in case. There was a squeezy bottle of holy oil by her soda and a lighter in her pocket.

"He's good with words," Sam had said about Lucifer.

Jo knew what Lucifer had done before, when he and the Winchesters had been playing the long game against each other. "Creepy" didn't even begin to cover it. Weapons weren't his primary form of attack. Whatever he was going to use on her, it wouldn't be anything that she hadn't heard before. And it didn't take a genius to figure out what would cut her the deepest right now.

But Lucifer stayed silent and Jo finished her dinner, sucking mustard off her thumb. She could be stubborn too. She wanted to be down here. It just so happened that the creature responsible for her Mom's death was down here also. And she'd be damned if he was going to take this away from her as well.

It was too dark to see his eyes when she left. She closed the door behind her firmly.

"My brother talks to you."

Jo flicked her pocketknife experimentally. Castiel stared back calmly. He wasn't going to move. Right, because Dean had managed to fall head over ass for the one being more emotionally dense than he was. Only Dean.

"He's probably going through a phase." Jo pocketed the knife again. It wasn't as rusty as she remembered. "It'll pass."

Castiel looked confused. Jo shook her head.

Her arms felt tired. Her throat was raw. She'd beaten Dean at pool last night. He'd bitched and she'd sweetly suggested that he bunk with Castiel to work off his bad mood. Then she'd thrown a couple of the pool balls at him when he'd snapped that he was going to a damn bar for some company. Sometimes literally knocking sense into a Winchester was the only thing that worked. Maybe Dean needed to be knocked out this time.

She couldn't remember which room Dean had emerged from this morning. But Cas had seemed happy, or his version of the emotion. He'd appeared less haunted. Bobby had dished up extra eggs for her.

At her first bite, she'd been mentally thrown back. Sloppy eggs sunny side up, crispy strips of bacon, greasy mushrooms, and buttered fried toast. You think drink settles well on an empty stomach? You dirty the bathroom, you clean it up. We've got Rufus coming, and Kyle and Rich and Heidi aren't far behind. Go rouse Ash. Take the bucket.

She'd finished her breakfast and had taken a coffee outside. Bitter and sweet and hot.

And here was Cas, wrapped up in his trenchcoat with a coffee of his own.

He had that confused crease between his eyebrows now and he looked like he wanted to ask a lot of questions. But Jo stared silently into the smoky-smeared horizon and drank her coffee. Cas had spent enough time with Dean, he must recognize exactly what she was projecting. If that didn't work, then she'd treat him like a Winchester and throw her mug at him.

"You miss your father."

That wasn't a question. Jo didn't look up from her research. The books she'd borrowed from Bobby's library were spread out around her in a specific order, open at certain pages, and she didn't want to lose the pattern. She scribbled notes on her travel pad.

"So do you."

She could hear the clinking of Lucifer's handcuff against the door. He was looking at her. She'd gotten used to that. She was still stubborn. She'd claimed this area as her own years ago and he wasn't going to run her off it. And despite everything, it was still the only place where she could think clearly. The irony was not sweet.

She slid the last book into place and reached for her beer. The pattern was definitely there. Lucifer was tilting his head, as though to make sense of what she'd laid out. He looked genuinely interested. Jo scribbled more notes. Genuine interest from the Devil was nowhere near her list of priorities.

"You miss your mother too."

Jo paused. That was the other shoe dropping. The book pages stirred, sounding loud in the silence. Her fingers tightened on her shirt sleeve. He was human enough to feel a punch now.

Instead, she held onto the squeezy bottle so tight that the holy oil puddled at her feet. She still had a lighter in her pocket.

She exhaled.

She closed the first book. She was almost at the top of the stairs when Lucifer spoke again.

"You were right, Joanna Beth."

Jo could taste copper. Her bottom lip was bleeding. She could smell her mother everywhere. It was even more potent than the oil that coated her jeans. It was stronger than everything.

Then the cool air of Bobby's house hit her hard in the face. It was a while before she managed to catch her breath again.

Everyone visited the panic room.

Dean was there like a little boy poking at a scab. He always went straight outside afterward, a beer in his hand and a furious look on his face. Only Castiel drifted out to his side and stayed, despite the sharp edges that Dean threw his way. Dean probably never told him he was grateful.

Sam sometimes went in, a point that Dean forever argued against. Sam always emerged unhappy, mouth slanted negatively and forehead furrowed like he just didn't understand. He kept on trying though.

Castiel was there some nights, because angels didn't need to sleep and a brother was a brother was a brother.

Bobby went in when no one else would. He'd slam a plate of food down and redo the traps and salt and sardonically offer reading material.

Jo watched from the top of the stairs. With every tiny movement, she flinched, her lips pressed thin.

"You miss your mother too."

That first night, they'd raised a glass to Ellen. Jo remembered, sharply in that moment, desperately missing Ash's sudden massive hugs and his constant aroma of whiskey combined with the sour tang of his unwashed clothes and the cheese curl dust that had always crusted his fingers.

Ever since then, she had been putting one foot in front of the other. Lucifer made her wobble.

From behind a closed door, she could feel him watching her. She could feel his cuts in her deepen. Her own fingernails drew blood too.

Then one day "Company!"

Everybody moved. Castiel handled a blessed sword, still unable to manifest his own. Dean double-checked his pistol and shotgun, loudly insisting that Cas take some kind of firearm just in case. Bobby threw holy water canisters to those that needed them as he headed towards the back door. Jo groped for her lighter.

Right. Not angels. That wasn't the focus this time. Demons. She shoved her Daddy's knife onto her belt and grabbed her gun.

Cas's light was dim, but he still glowed. Among the carnage, Jo saw a scrap of Dean's expression, how he looked at the angel. Then she was avoiding a demon trying to gut her and letting off a salt round into the forehead of another. She had no clue how long the skirmish lasted. One moment she was catching a fist to the face, the next somebody had gotten enough breath and space to start exorcising. Things wound up pretty quickly after that.

Cas and Bobby were checking the wards, Dean only a few steps behind them. Jo headed for the house. She drank tap water in the kitchen until Sam insistently took the glass away from her. When he started to speak, Jo pointedly turned away and headed straight down toward the basement. Sam wouldn't follow her there. None of them ever did. Right now, she honestly didn't care who was grinning at her from the panic room. She needed her favorite space and room to breathe.

She sat on the floor and, ignoring everything else, began emptying her pockets. It was only when her breathing finally evened out and she was cleaning one of her knives that she noticed her own reflection in it. A streak of blood vividly bisected her face. She stared at it for a moment. She didn't wipe it away.

Lucifer didn't say a word. He didn't even appear at the door slot.

Jo stayed down there all night.

A few days after that, Lucifer became everybody's focus. For a solid week, he didn't stop screaming.

Castiel vanished into the panic room for hours at a time. He was pale and drained whenever he emerged.

Apparently few angels survived the pain of losing their wings. Lucifer was one of the 'lucky' ones.

It took another week, but eventually he went quiet.

And refused to speak to anyone again.

Jo took her iPod with her when she got up. It stayed in her pocket as she made herself breakfast and poured the blackest cup of coffee possible. Without any hesitation, she descended the stairs.

Sam, Dean, and Bobby hadn't been down to the panic room since Lucifer's transformation.

Jo sat down and began buttering her toast. She slid her earbuds in and started a playlist. By the time the second song was over, she had her large loose-leaf notebook open and had started sketching. She forked up scrambled eggs and grilled tomatoes, and gulped down coffee. She enjoyed the peace.

It wasn't until she paused after a mouthful of egg that she registered that she was being watched.

"You have a very pleasant voice."

She looked up. Lucifer stared back.

A human Lucifer. Was he still Lucifer now that he was wingless and didn't have the twisted heavenly powers? Had he become somebody else instead?

He'd become what he hated most.

She stood up, one earbud wire trailing down her shoulder. She walked over to the panic room. She'd never come this close to him before. She had a knife on her belt and another in her boot.

She held out a piece of toast. It was splattered with egg yolk.

"You should eat."

Lucifer's eyes stayed locked on her. He didn't make a sound. He looked different. He looked…hungry.

Jo stayed completely still as he reached a long lanky arm through the door slot. Their hands touched when he took the food. His skin was thin and papery.

Jo smiled with teeth.

-the end