Lucifer—the name alone struck fear in the hearts of the angels.

Hatred festered in the very roots of Heaven for the fallen angel. For ‘God commanded it’. Hate the devil, he’s the villain. Follow your design.

When Lucifer is reported to be free from the cage and roaming about behind the pearly gates—chaos ensues. Fear and glancing over shoulders becomes the regular.

Not you. Never you. Lucifer remembers you. His number one supporter since day one. You weren’t brainwashed like all the other blind angels, you were independent. Although, maybe you were brainwashed, but by the wrong side.

It didn’t matter to you. Lucifer’s most devout follower. Luci was quite fond of you. Fond of you…or he found you useful, who knows?

In the unearthly pure light around you in a human conception of a tiled hallway, white upon white surrounding you—Lucifer stops you.

“Miss me, feathers?” His face says ‘Castiel’ but his expression is Lucifer through and through. A devilish spark in his gaze that was a mere window into the ‘Prince of Darkness’ at the very heart of his being.

Your angelic sight glides over him—you see beyond the surface of Castiel—you see undulating mirth of darkness, sparks of the fire of damnation. It’s Luci.