Written by: KariGorsuch

"Prophecy wrapped in skin," I murmured. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Crowley glanced over his shoulder, smirking like he knew exactly what it meant and had zero intention of saying anything.

Eve kept walking, but I caught the way her jaw tightened. "It means," she said carefully, "That we just walked into an even bigger problem."

"That's so reassuring," I muttered sarcastically.

"Good," Crowley said, cheerfully unhelpful. "Reassurance is for the living. You're past that."

"Pretty sure I'm still alive... Unless Urzin just murdered us to drag us down here," I retorted, casting a glare at the demon in question.

Urzin's grin was all teeth, slow and deliberate. "If I wanted you dead," he drawled, "You wouldn't still have time to make bad jokes about it."

"Could've fooled me," I shot back.

Crowley slid in between us with the ease of someone who'd been breaking up arguments since the dawn of time. "Children, please. We've bigger beasts to fry. And believe me, kitten," he added, flicking a look my way, "You don't want to know what His Nibs meant. Not tonight."

Urzin chuckled low in his throat, clearly enjoying the rising tension.

"Oh, I think I do want to know," I said, stepping around Crowley. "We've been here... what? An hour? And every time someone down here drops a cryptic little riddle, I get this feeling it's going to end up being my problem. And if this shit becomes my problem, I think I'm entitled to the truth."

Crowley gave me a long, slow once-over, the way someone might study a stain they can't scrub out. "And there it is- your delusional sense of entitlement. Must be exhausting, walking through the world thinking the universe owes you an answer."

"Better than walking through it, making deals with desperate people and then cashing in their souls like loose change," I snapped.

His smirk sharpened. "Loose change still spends, darling. And desperate people? They come to me. I don't have to chase them." He stepped closer, the air between us tightening like a tripwire. "You think that makes me the villain? No, love- I'm the consequence. You humans are the ones who can't live with the cost of what you're willing to pay."

I didn't flinch, but I did grab for the knife I usually carried on my hip. "You hide behind that like it's some kind of moral high ground. Newsflash- it's still Hell, Crowley. You just wear the suit better."

He chuckled low, the sound curling through the dark hall like smoke. "Better suit, better taste, better survival instincts. I didn't get this far by pretending I'm better than I am." he leaned in, eyes gleaming. "You, on the other hand... still playing hero in a pit where the only rule is eat or be eaten."

"Good thing I'm not picky," I shot back as Eve dropped back between us.

Eve's voice cut, sharp and steady. "Enough. Both of you." She glanced first at me, then at Crowley. "We have bigger things to worry about than your arguing."

Crowley gave a mock bow, lips twitching with amusement. "Very well, darling. Consider me... temporarily chastised." He cast Eve a sidelong glance, softer this time, eyes warmer. "And you, lovely, seem like someone who gets it. Not so impressed with the theatrics. I like that."

Eve blinked, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Well, someone has to keep the company sane."

"That someone," Crowley said, sweeping his hand toward her like presenting a trophy, "might just be you. I think we could do business." His grin softened into something almost friendly—mischief tempered by respect. "Think of it as... networking with benefits."

I felt my jaw tighten. "Networking with benefits? Really? He's going to try to network with you, Eve."

Eve shrugged, amused. "If he's polite enough, I might let him." She turned her head to me with a teasing look. "Don't tell me you're jealous."

"Jealous? Hardly," I muttered.

Crowley chuckled, clearly enjoying the private war brewing between us. "Ah, I see the chemistry already. Don't worry, love, you'll come to accept my charm... eventually. Or hate it. Either works." He winked at me before turning back to Eve. "Shall we move before the décor here decides it's tired of us?"

I shot him a look that could curdle milk. "You're impossible."

"Merely efficient," he said lightly, stepping forward with Eve. She fell into stride beside him, and I noticed a fluidity, an easy rapport forming. A team, of sorts.

I, on the other hand, found my attention drifting back toward the Cage. The memory of Lucifer's presence—calm, impossible, magnetic—pulled at me. He hadn't said much, hadn't needed to. Just standing there, barefoot in the center of that cathedral of iron, was enough to anchor me strangely.

Lucifer's voice, low and deliberate, echoed through my memory. "You wear grief like a weapon. But weapons dull, Brianna."

I could feel it again now, that pull, that recognition of understanding. Of acknowledgment. Unlike Crowley, whose presence grated and pricked and provoked, Lucifer's drew me in, almost gently, as if we were speaking in a language only the two of us could understand.

Eve glanced at me briefly, sensing my distraction. "You okay?"

I nodded, though my throat was tight. "Yeah. Just... remembering the Cage."

Crowley, still walking beside Eve, gave me a look over his shoulder. "Oh, you're smitten. Admit it, kitten. He's got that effect."

"I am not smitten by him," I growled. "He's the literal Devil."

Crowley's grin widened, sharp and teasing. "Right. Of course. Not smitten. Just... inexplicably drawn to the inconveniently attractive, terrifying one with a flair for existential commentary. That's even better."

I jabbed a finger at him, venom in every movement. "And you're supposed to be the charming one?"

He shrugged, as casual as if he'd just been complimented. "Charming, ruthless, occasionally helpful. Pick two and you'll survive longer." He glanced at Eve, who was walking smoothly beside him, eyes flicking between us with a quiet amusement. "See? Some of us earn friendships, darling. Others... make enemies with style."

Eve laughed softly, shaking her head. "I think you two are going to be exhausting together."

"You have no idea," I muttered, keeping my glare trained on Crowley. "How many times do you think I can try to kill him before something... bigger happens?"

Crowley's grin only widened, sharp and dangerous. "Ah, finally, some honesty. You try to kill me, kitten, and you'll find out very quickly—'something bigger' already has a taste for your drama." He leaned closer, voice low and silky. "And let me tell you, Hell doesn't like interruptions. Especially when the party's just getting interesting."

I took a step back, pressing the edge of my hand against the wall for balance, every instinct bristling. "So basically... you're untouchable, and if I try... everything explodes?"

"Not everything," Urzin said, tilting his head, "just the parts that make your life interesting—or terrifying. Maybe both. Depends on my mood."

Eve glanced between us, a flicker of amusement and exasperation on her face. "I think we just found your permanent entertainment, Bri."

I huffed, spinning back to glare at him. "Oh, fantastic. So, you're literally Hell's version of a cockroach—impossible to kill and entirely too charming for your own good."

Crowley laughed, low and dangerous, letting the sound curl around the corridor like smoke. "Cockroach, kitten? Charming? I'll take it as a compliment. You should, too. You'll need to, if you plan on surviving the next... few years down here."

My jaw tightened. "Next few years? Who the hell said we're staying down here?"

Urzin laughed- dark and cold. "You'll be here until the Winchesters retrieve Eve's necklace... or join you."

My stomach twisted, and I shared a look with Eve with a forced smile. "Guess we'll pencil that into my calendar- 'rot in Hell until the boys screw up spectacularly.'"

Urzin's gaze flicked over me like he was checking for cracks. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. You might even enjoy yourself if you stopped pouting long enough to see the... opportunities."

I stepped into his space, just enough to make it clear I wasn't intimidated- though my pulse thudded in my throat. "Here's the thing, Urzin. I don't do well with opportunities that smell like sulfur and talk out of both sides of their mouth."

His smile widened, slow and poisonous. "That's the problem with you hunter types- you can't tell the difference between a lifeline and a noose until you're already dangling."

Eve's hand brushed my arm, a silent warning, but I didn't move. "Noose or not, I'd rather hang than owe you a damn thing."

Urzin leaned in, so close I caught the faint burn of brimstone on his breath. "Oh, Brianna... you already do."

I shivered, the corridor's temperature dropping to match the tone of his voice.

Urzin gestured, flicking his wrist as the shadows around us swirled and parted like a curtain. "Enough sightseeing for one evening," he said smoothly. "Time for you to rest. You'll need your strength."

The corridor twisted, stretched, and suddenly we were standing in a space that made no sense—wide and open, yet somehow intimate. The walls were scorched obsidian, runes glowing faintly as if breathing. A series of cots lined the room, open like a barracks bay, but with nothing to confine us. The air hummed softly, alive but quiet.

Crowley stepped forward, grinning. "Home sweet... well, let's call it temporary residence. Don't get attached; the décor's liable to change when Hell feels dramatic."

Eve raised an eyebrow, glancing at me as she set her pack down. "Open bay barracks in Hell. How comforting."

I scowled, inspecting one of the cots. "And we just sleep here? No... chains, no traps?"

Urzin's smile was slow, knowing. "No chains tonight. Consider it... a courtesy. Even Hell allows a reprieve. Don't get used to it."

Crowley chuckled behind Eve, offering her a bow that was almost courtly. "Sleep tight, darling. You're in better hands than you realize."

"No chains tonight," I mocked quietly, sitting on the edge of the cot. "That makes me feel really comforted."

Eve smirked at me, shaking her head. "You really can't help yourself, can you?"

I crossed my arms, leaning back against the cot. "Comfort isn't exactly on the menu down here, Eve. Might as well call it like I see it."

Urzin lingered by the doorway, his shadow stretching along the floor like ink spilled across stone. "See? Even a brief taste of safety makes you tense. Predictable." His voice slid along the walls, low and amused. "Rest while you can, girls. Tomorrow... We find entertainment."

Crowley hovered near Eve, flipping a coin between his fingers with effortless grace. "I'd offer advice for sleeping in Hell, but rules are flexible and, frankly, overvalued. I say find a cot you like and make it yours... for now."

Eve sank into the nearest cot with a small sigh, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I'll take what I can get."

I stayed on the edge of mine, watching her for a moment before letting my gaze drift toward the faint glow of the runes lining the walls. They pulsed softly, like a heartbeat just out of reach.

"No chains, tonight," I muttered again, more to myself. "Comforted, right."

Crowley's laugh, low and smooth, curled around the room. "You've got spirit, kitten. But trust me—this is Hell. Spirit gets tested. Frequently."

Urzin's presence at the doorway seemed to thicken the air, a reminder that even in a temporary reprieve, we weren't truly alone. "Sleep, Brianna. Dream if you dare—but remember, the deeper you go, the less Hell gives you dreams and the more it gives you truths."

I frowned, hugging my knees to my chest. "Fantastic. Nothing like a little existential horror to send someone off to bed."

Eve's soft chuckle beside me was the only comfort as the shadows of the room shifted and stretched, alive with silent anticipation.

The room was silent at first, too silent, like the world had held its breath and forgotten me. Then the shadows began to move—stretching along the walls of an empty house that wasn't really a house. The air smelled of rot, iron, and fire, thick and clinging. I tried to step back, but my feet were rooted, glued to the cracked wood beneath me.

Then I heard it—a soft, familiar voice calling my name.

"Brianna..."

I turned, and there he was. Jared. His smile was too wide, too sharp, eyes glinting with a strange hunger. "You always run, don't you?" His words crawled under my skin, settling into the pit of my stomach. "You think you can control it. You think you can... stop me."

I shook my head violently. "No. You're not real. You can't—"

His form flickered, like static on a broken television screen, and he reached out, his fingers ghosting over my arm.

I recoiled, my skin prickling as if the touch burned. "Don't- don't touch me," I rasped, my voice barely more than a strangled whisper. My heart was hammering in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears like a drum of warning.

Jared's eyes glinted, sharp and cruel, and the shadows behind him writhed as he faded from sight. "You can't run from this, Brianna," he whispered, his voice a venomous carcass. "Not from me... not from him... and not from what's waiting for you."

I tried to step back, but only succeeded in stepping back into a shadowy body. Jared's hands wrapped around my waist, dragging me back into him.

I struggled, thrashing against him, but it was like fighting against smoke- his grip was everywhere and nowhere, impossible to escape. My lungs burned, my chest heaving as panic clawed through me. "Let me go!" I screamed, but the sound came out twisted, hollow, echoing off walls that weren't really there.

Jared leaned close, his breath ghosting over my ear. "He's slipping away from you. You think that he meant it when he said he loved you?"

My stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat. "Shut up," I hissed, my voice breaking under the weight of his words. But Jared only chuckled- a low, mocking sound that seemed to echo.

"He didn't," he whispered, his lips almost brushing my ear. "Not really. He just didn't want to watch you break. But you broke anyway, didn't you? In the mirrors."

I thrashed against his grip, but his arms were like iron, pulling me deeper into the cold press of the shadow behind me. My breath came in sharp, ragged bursts as the air thickened, heavy with the scent of smoke and something fouler- burnt flesh, Hell's breath. "How do you know about that?"

Jared's smile pressed against the side of my face, unseen but felt, like the curl on a blade against my skin. "This is all in your head, baby. I see everything."

My pulse pounded in my ears, each beat sharp and uneven, like my body was trying to warn me that I was seconds from shattering. "Get out of my head," I spat, but the words came out weak- more plea than command.

Jared's laugh was low and cruel, curling around me like smoke as his hands drifted down my body. "You don't want me gone. You need me."

My breath caught, my whole body trembling as if every nerve had been set alight. "No," I said, but it came out like a whimper, and the sound only seemed to amuse him more. His grip shifted, one hand pressing over my stomach, holding me in place while the other trailed upward toward my throat.

"You hate me," Jared murmured, his voice silk-wrapped poison, "But you hate yourself more. For letting him die. For not stopping me in that bar."

I froze, every word digging like hooks beneath my ribs. My throat tightened, but I forced the words out, trembling. "Stop. You don't know him-"

Jared laughed, low and broken, and the air around us seemed to collapse inward. The floor beneath my feet turned slick, wet with something warm. I looked down- blood, seeping through the wood, curling into spirals that pulsed like veins.

When I looked up again, Jared's shadow was gone.

And Sam was there.

Just like Cold Oak. His shirt was torn, blood soaking through. His eyes were wide but glassy, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "Bri..." he choked out, his voice cracking with pain. "You were too slow."

I dropped to my knees in front of him, grabbing the front of his jacket, shaking my head. "No- no I can fix this, I can-"

Something yanked him backward.

A chain, blackened and hot, whipped around his chest and neck, dragging him into the floor as if it had turned to molten tar. His kin blistered where it touched. I screamed and tried to pull him back, but another chain lashed around my wrist, burning deep.

The ground split wide, the smell of sulfur and burning hair choking me as Hell opened beneath us. From the darkness below, voices screamed and laughed in one long, endless chorus.

I was still clinging to him when Jared's voice slid from the shadows.

"Go ahead. Follow him."

The chains tightened, and the floor gave way.

We fell.

I woke with a gasp, my body slick with sweat, heart hammering like it would burst through my ribs. The sheets were twisted around me, tangled and heavy, as if trying to hold me down. For a moment, relief washed over me- I was awake.

But then it hit.

The screaming.

It didn't stop. It didn't fade. It was louder, sharper, all around me, echoing in a way no earthly walls could contain. The fire, the chains... they were still here.

I pushed myself upright, every muscle trembling, sweat running down my face. Eve, thankfully, was still asleep, looking the most relaxed I'd seen since before the Army.

I stumbled out of the barracks room, my bare feet hitting scorched stone, each step echoing in the cavernous expanse. The air burned my lungs, thick with smoke and ash, and every direction I turned seemed to stretch infinitely, twisting impossibly like a nightmare that had taken a physical form.

Screams clawed at me from every shadow. Faces, twisted and hollow, flickered along the walls. Sam's voice joined the chorus, distant and haunting, calling my name over and over- but each cry sounded warped and distorted, almost mocking.

I moved faster, weaving between fire-lit columns and jagged black rock, my hands scraping against walls that burned like hot coals. I needed to get somewhere-anywhere-but the halls of Hell were endless, looping back on themselves, corridors swallowing themselves like a maze designed to trap the living.

Then I sensed it.

Movement. Slow, deliberate, in the darkness ahead. A figure stepping from the shadows. Its eyes glowed faint red, its form shifting, too large, too human, and not human all at once.

A demon.

"You shouldn't be here," it said, voice grinding like stone and steel. The words vibrated through my chest, and the screaming seemed to swell around them.

I swallowed, my throat dry. "I... I'm leaving."

The demon tilted its head, amused. "Leaving? So soon? You've barely scratched the surface."

The demon's grin widened, stretching his pale, corpse-like face until it felt wrong to look at. His eyes-too bright, too knowing- studied me as if peeling back every layer, finding the ugly truths I tried to bury.

"Barely touched the surface," he repeated, stepping closer with slow, deliberate precision. The screaming in the walls seemed to breathe with him, the sound swelling and curling around my bones.

I backed up a step, my hands curling into fists I wasn't sure I could use. "I don't want-"

"Oh, but you do," he interrupted, his voice slick and almost playful. "You want to survive. You want to stop losing. Him, her, anyone you can't save. You've been walking through Hell half your life, little hunter... I'm just offering to give you the map."

His gaze flicked down, lingering on the tension in my arms, the slight tremble in my fingers. "Do you know what I could make you? Strong enough to make The Mother bleed. Strong enough to rip Azazel's smug little grin off his face. Strong enough to stop watching people you live die in front of you."

My breath hitched, and his smile sharpened.

"That's the thing about Hell, Brianna. It's not here to break you- it's here to make you. And I am very good at making people better," he leaned in close enough that the heat of him was suffocating, the air tinged with the metallic tang of blood and something older, fouler. "All you have to do... is say yes."

The shadows stretched, almost bending toward him. "I could make you stronger, Brianna. Strong enough that no one-man, demon, or god-could touch you without your permission. You'd never feel powerless again."

I shook my head, the motion jerky. "No. I'm not... I'm not like you."

One pale brow arched. "Not yet." His voice rolled over me like slow thunder, heavy and patient. "But you will be. This place... it eats the weak. And you're already starting to taste the bitterness of that truth."

I took a step back, but it felt like retreating into a noose. "I'll manage."

His grin sharpened, but he didn't press. Instead, he leaned in closer. "When you change your mind-" his emphasis on when was a promise, not a prediction. "-just call for me. Alistair. I'll come."

He stepped past me, his shoulder brushing mine like the touch of a cold blade, and the screaming in the air seemed to heighten before receding. I was left standing alone in the hall, heart pounding, the echo of his name lingering in my mind like a brand.

I kept walking, or tried to. The corridors in this part of Hell had a way of shifting-never the same route twice, never the same distance. My feet knew I should head for the so-called "safe room," but every turn seemed to narrow, twist, until the air grew colder. The screaming in the walls dulled, replaced by a steady thrum, deep and resonant, like the heartbeat of something buried.

The iron door rose out of the dark before I realized where I'd gone. The Cage. Again.

I should've turned back. I didn't.

A slow, deliberate scrape echoed inside- metal on stone, chains moving. Then, that voice. "Back so soon, Brianna? Tell me... is it the charm, or the conversation?"

"Neither," I said, though my voice didn't sound convincing even to me.

Lucifer's chuckle was warm honey over broken glass. "Mm. Liar. No one else down here will talk to you without an angle." He paused, then added with deliberate cruelty. "Except me. My angle's just... obvious."

I stepped closer to the bars, careful not to cross the line of carved sigils in the floor. "Alistair made me an offer."

"Of course he did. That's what rats do when they smell blood in the water." The faintest rattle of his chains followed, and I swore the shadows behind the bars shifted toward me. "But you're not here for advice, sweetheart. You're here because you know I'm the only one who'll tell you the truth. Even if it hurts."

I hated that he was right.

His grin was audible in his voice. "So. Ask your question. Let's see how deep you want to dig."

The shadows inside the Cage shifted when I spoke. "Tell me how to kill her."

For a long moment, Lucifer just stared. Then his head tilted, and laughter ripped out of him-loud, sharp, echoing until it drowned out the humming in the walls. He kept laughing long enough that I thought maybe that was all I'd get. But then it broke into a quiet hum, almost like a lull, and he sighed as if he'd worn himself out.

"Oh, sweetheart," he drawled, voice dripping with amusement. "You can't."

My stomach twisted. "Not like that. Not vague. I want an answer."

"That was an answer." Chains groaned as if he leaned closer. "You, as you are right now? Fragile. Mortal. Pretty enough, angry enough, but still just... meat. The Goddess? She's older than your languages, older than your little wars, older than the dirt you're standing on. You don't just kill Eve."

My hands curling into fists. "Then how?"

"Oh, look at you," he said softly, almost admiring. "Fire in the voice, fists clenched, demanding the impossible. You'd be adorable if you weren't so serious about it." His tone warmed just slightly, conspiratorial now. "But you don't need a sword. You need strength. The kind that only comes from the right teacher."

The name wasn't spoken, but it hung in the air like smoke. Alistair.

I shook my head. "Not happening."

Lucifer chuckled- low, quiet, like he was in on a joke only he understood. "You say that like I care about your moral line in the sand. I don't. But..." His voice softened again, almost fond. "...I do care about being entertained. And watching you try to take on Eve with nothing but bravado and a knife? That's funny. Hilarious, even. But it won't get you what you want."

"And what do you think I want?"

"Oh, that's the delicious part." His eyes gleamed, more alive than the flames around us. "You don't even know yet. But you will. And when you do, you'll come back here - because I'm the only one who won't lie to you about it. That's why you keep finding me. Isn't it?"

"Not like I keep finding you on purpose. Something here apparently wants me to keep talking to you."

Lucifer's grin widened, sharklike. "Oh, Brianna... you think Hell makes mistakes?" He leaned closer, his hands dangling over his bent knees like a predator at rest, but his voice dropped, velvet and sharp. "You wander through shadows, bump into Alistair, trip your way down to my doorstep-do you really think that's coincidence?"

I stiffened. "...Then what is it?"

His smile twisted, all teeth and mockery. "It's inevitability. You've got blood in your veins that tastes like rebellion. Fear that reeks of potential. Hell doesn't just want you near me-it's practically shoving you down the corridor." He tapped his temple. "Deep down, you already know you belong here."

I forced my voice steady. "I don't belong here."

"Of course you don't," Lucifer said lightly, sarcasm coating every word. "You're so good, so pure, so heroic. You love your Sam, you fight the monsters, you try to keep your little family stitched together with spit and stubbornness." He snapped his fingers, the sound echoing too loudly. "And yet... you still come back. To me. Why is that?"

"Why don't you tell me?" I shot back at him, pacing in front of the Cage.

Lucifer's eyes lit with mischief, like he'd been waiting for me to ask. He leaned back against the bars of the Cage, casual as if we weren't standing in the bowels of damnation itself.

"Why don't I tell you?" he echoed, voice lilting, mocking. "Oh, sweetheart, because it's more fun watching you squirm toward the truth on your own." His grin turned sly. "But fine, since you're begging - here's a morsel."

The firelight flared as he tilted his head, studying me like a painting. "You and I? We're... connected. Tied together in ways you haven't even begun to choke on yet. You keep trying to run back to your precious Sam, but tell me, Brianna - why do you think he keeps circling you?"

I felt my stomach twist. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on." Lucifer's laugh rang out, sharp and delighted. "Don't play dumb- It doesn't suit you. You can feel it, can't you? The little pull. The way the universe tugs at your insides and drags you right back here, right back to me, no matter how loud you scream that you don't belong."

I clenched my fists, refusing to give ground. "We're nothing alike."

Lucifer's grin softened, though it never lost its edge. His voice dropped lower, more intimate than mocking now, as if he were confiding in me rather than taunting.

"That's the problem, darling. We are alike. You don't want to admit it, but you bleed rebellion just like me. You ache for answers no one else will give you. And underneath it all?" His eyes flicked over me, slow and deliberate. "There's a fracture in that pretty little armor of yours. I can see it every time you look at me."

I swallowed hard, but he leaned closer before I could speak, his words brushing against me like silk, wrapping tight.

"Face it, Dove. You're tethered to me. You can run to Sam, to Dean, to Eve- hell, to Heaven itself- but sooner or later, you'll feel the pull. And every time, it'll bring you back here. To me."