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pin·ion (verb): cut off the pinion of (a wing or bird) to prevent flight.

Lucifer is dead. Lucifer is dead. His mind is reeling that it’s finally over. The burnt outline of wings, parts still smoldering, and the slowing stream of blood coming from his chest seals it for him. He doesn’t know what to do. Dean is overjoyed, Jack looks relatively happy despite trying to kill himself to save him, and it should feel good. It should feel the beginning. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling.

Dean grunts, bringing him out of the brief introspection to look at Dean, only to see Michael surface. Any elation he felt at Lucifer’s demise drains from him as he watches Dean, no Michael, vanish. He glances at Jack. He’s distressed. He goes to comfort Jack.

“C’mon Jack, we need to go to the bunker. We need to see if everyone is okay there,” he says, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Alright but we do we with,” Jack hesitates. His eyes looking at the space between his feet and Lucifer’s, well Jack’s father’s, body.

“I need to find a car to hotwire, but we’ll put it in the trunk. We don’t need anyone else finding this,” he explains. He doesn’t elaborate more.

Jack is surprisingly good at distracting someone enough to ignore him breaking into a car in what they thought was a deserted parking lot. He’s not sure if he proud of it or worried. He picks him up and they go back to the church. It’s silent. He can’t bring himself to turn on the radio. Jack is watching the scenery pass by. They load Lucifer’s body into the trunk, still pilant. Rigor mortis hasn’t set in yet he thinks. Lucifer’s blood is on his hands. He shouldn’t feel glee in that.

The bunker is a cacophony of people and sound. Everyone fluttering about trying to understand how Michael crossed over. When him and Jack open the door the first time, all eyes are them. His mom rushes over to both of them: worried about the blood and bruises on both of them. She notices the blood on his hands. He can only say it’s not his. He takes his leave to deal with corpse in the trunk.

There is a little shed tucked back in forest far off the trails and overgrown. Apparently some of the Men of Letters were into horticulture; probably a way of guaranteeing that whatever herb or plant needed for a spell would always be there. He found it by accident when they first got here. It’s been his secret spot to get away from it all. It’s the perfect place for this.

He drags Lucifer there. His corpse is going stiff, making harder for him to maneuver him on top of an old workbench. Even in death Lucifer makes everything difficult he thinks. He strips him of the clothing he was wearing, cutting away the seams to make it easier. This is the Morningstar. This was God’s favorite until he fell. This was torturer for centuries.

He rolls up his sleeves. Brings out the tools he brought from the bunker. Lucifer laid out on the table motionless and he has so many ideas. Ever since the cage, he’s always dreamt of this moment. He’s at a lose on wear to start. That is until he sees Lucifer’s soft dick lying there. He should put on gloves a part of him thinks, but the other part wants to feel his blood running between his fingers, the spongy texture of flesh; in his fantasy he never wears gloves. He goes for the knife instead. He picks up Lucifer’s dick, stretches it, and hacks it off. He mutilates his scrotum. He makes a small incision on each side and pops out each testicle. He crushes them his hands. He feels satisfaction and feels ascendant.

He moves to his face. The thinks of Veritas and lies and how Lucifer’s tongue would be like the finest caviar to her. He puts down the small hunting knife and grabs pliers. Prying open the mouth he grabs onto the tongue. Lucifer’s head jerks with as he pulls. He places his other hand on Lucifer’s forehead and yanks it as hard as he can. He feels ever tear of muscle as the tongue is freed. Some of the teeth are cracked and broken but that doesn’t matter. He moves on.

In the cage Lucifer would remove his eyelids; he thought it was humorous that he was forced to bear witness all the sins inflicted on his skin while Michael and Adam were forced to watch. He regrets that he didn’t do that first, but quickly rectifies that.

The sun is setting; the golden hour is upon them. He thinks he should leave before the others try to find him. Instead, he strings Lucifer’s intestines on hooks, a pale mimicry of the cage. The smell of death permeates the small shed. Sam laughs then cries over the thought that sometimes this smell is more familiar than that the impala.

Dusk descends. He should really leave this macabre tableau. He should raze this all to the ground. Instead he picks up heavy duty gardening shears and breaks open Lucifer’s chest.

He’s holding onto Lucifer’s heart. It’s smoother than what he imagined; the blood tacky in his palm. He not sure if he wants to crush, cut it into pieces or keep it. He decided that he wants disesicate it, preserve it, a token of Lucifer’s death. Proof that he can no longer hurt him or anyone he loves. He empties a dusty glass jar of screws and places it in there. He places it in his bag for safe keeping.

Dusk descends. There is a gruesome, macabre tableau in front of him. Lucifer’s intestines still hanging, tongue off to the side, eyes open, his groin obliterated. He even made sure to prolapse Lucifer as worse as he did him (he found humor in violently inserting a hammer). He should leave. He never wants to leave this euphoria of retribution. He hears his cell vibrating from the bag again. He should finish this before someone finds him.

He leaves Lucifer out the work bench as he fetches the gasoline from outside. He mixes a little holy oil in too. He pours it all over the shed. He stuffs a piece of cloth into the gas can. He lights it and throws it into the door. He stands back and watches it burn to ground. The sound of the shed burning, the loud pops of glass exploding to the rustling of burning paper, puts Sam in a trance. He feels at ease. He feels lighter. He’s covered in dead man’s blood and viscera and he knows that he has to clean up before going back. He finds a small creek to wash up in before going back.

He enters the bunker. He is a new animal. He is free from his torturer. He has the devil’s heart in a jar and he’s feeling good. Now to save Dean.