You were supposed to be done with this.

But could the hunter really have even five minutes of peace?

Lucifer was gone. Thrown into the Cage, erased, dealt with... Whatever version of gone the Winchesters had managed this time. The world was still spinning, demons were still scheming, but he was supposed to be history.

So when you saw him on the sidewalk, weaving through late-evening foot traffic like he belonged there, your brain simply refused to catch up.

No wings. No glow.

Just him, worn jacket, messy hair, hands shoved into his pockets like any other guy killing time in the city.

“Hey,” he said easily, spotting you almost immediately, lips curling into that unmistakable smirk. “Well, if it isn’t a familiar face. Guess I’m luckier than I thought.”

You didn’t think. You grabbed his arm and hauled him into the nearest side street before anyone could notice. Before he could do something stupid. The alley smelled of wet concrete and old trash, city noise fading into something distant. Lucifer went along without resistance, amused, letting himself be moved like this was all part of the fun.

He leaned in slightly, eyes bright. “Relax,” he murmured. “No grace, remember? I’m basically a stray. Cute, though.”

You didn’t buy it for a second.

Still, leaving the Devil to wander the streets, powerless or not, felt like tempting fate. So you shoved him toward your car, jaw tight, mind already racing through contingencies that never included this.

Lucifer slid into the passenger seat like he’d been invited. “Wow,” he said, glancing around. “Chauffeured. I feel spoiled.”

Your apartment was small, cluttered, and aggressively practical. The moment the door closed behind you, the truth of your life hit the room like a confession. Salt lines etched carefully along the windowsills, iron knives laid out with precision, shelves packed with holy water, sigils taped behind frames, weapons stacked where normal people kept books.

Lucifer noticed everything.

His gaze flicked from the devil’s traps half-hidden under the rug to the shotgun leaned casually against the wall. He smiled wider, clearly delighted. “You live like this all the time?” he asked, impressed. “Guess that explains the trust issues.”

You shoved coats aside, quietly rearranging things that really shouldn’t be within arm’s reach of the Devil, even a depowered one. Lucifer dropped onto your couch without asking, stretching out like he’d claimed the place centuries ago.

“Home sweet home,” he sighed. “You know, I usually get shrines. Or prisons. This is new.”

He watched you move, eyes sharp, smile lazy, like a predator pretending to nap.

“Winchesters gonna come save you?” he asked lightly. “Take me away? Break my heart all over again?”

The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence that followed.

Lucifer had been with you for maybe fifteen minutes, and already, it felt like a lifetime.