Work Header

Hour At Hand

Work Text:

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, it has been forever since my last confession.”

Lucifer raised his head – his borrowed head – and looked to his Father’s vessel. A quick look through Sam Winchester’s memory told him the name of the vessel was Chuck Shurley, he was once a down on his luck author-cum-prophet. In actuality he was the vessel for the Almighty. 

His Father had grasped him and raised him from his cage, cradled him against his body and told him he loved him. That he had passed. 

It had all been a test; a test of His love. 

Now Lucifer had to earn it back. His love and His trust came at a price. Lucifer had to pay for his sins, his doubts, anger and hatred in a pound of flesh and torrents of blood. Lucifer had to be penitent. For love did not mean forgiveness or absolution. 

“I entrust myself wholly unto you, Father.”

God smiled, His fingers caressed down what was once Sam Winchester’s cheek. He could feel the glory, Grace and power that buzzed beneath the flesh and blood container. 

“I love you, child,” God whispered against the shell of Lucifer’s ear. “However, to enter back into the Kingdom you must be pure of heart and soul. I will punish you until I see fit and then absolve you. You must repent to be saved. Am I understood?”

“Yes Father, I understand.”

“Good. Now please remove your vessel’s clothing and stand facing the wall.”

God watched as Lucifer quickly obeyed. For a rebellious being he certainly enjoyed being told what to do now. God mused as to why – perhaps because he wanted to return Home, to be loved by Him again. 

He strode over to Lucifer, who was bared naked, pressed against the cold, slick stone wall. His forehead rested against the dampened surface, his arms spread wide on either side of his body. For a moment, just a moment, God thought of his other son – his earthly son and the penance and punishment He received on behalf of humanity. He stopped short behind the archangel and let Lucifer feel his presence; the warmth and awesome power He radiated. Lucifer inhaled sharply through his nose and shuddered against the stone. God splayed a hand over Lucifer’s back; He let the warmth inside of Himself radiate out into Lucifer’s frigid body. 

“You will make no noise, save for when I ask it of you. Nor will you move. I am aware your borrowed flesh will repair itself but you are to impede it, slow it down as much as possible. Am I clear?”

“Yes Father.”

“Good boy.”

God ran his fingers up Samuel Winchester’s – now Lucifer’s – spine. He felt the ripple and tug of the strong, corded muscle below the flesh, the solid mass of bone and the pulse of blood. He could feel the hope and lustful anticipation thrumming under Lucifer’s skin, over his nerves and in his veins. 

Poor child, he had confused Lust with Love and Pain with Pleasure. It wasn’t that large of a surprise, however, given where he had spent his life; locked in a cage. God chided Himself, it wasn’t proper parenting in the least. 


He had to do this, no matter how much Lucifer wished for it, or anticipated it. Lucifer needed to be punished. 

With a simple though God felt the sudden presence of thick, braided leather in His palm and examined the whip with a cursory yet appreciative glance. He took a few steps away from Lucifer and turned back, facing his child’s bare body, shining in the moonlight that filtered into the damp, dingy warehouse. He cracked the whip a few times, the noise filling the air, making Lucifer vibrate and shiver in anticipation.

God struck suddenly and without warning. A hard blow felled across shoulder to hip. Lucifer’s fingers flexed against the stone and his knees shook at the kiss of the whip, but he made no other move or cry. 


Lucifer’s voice was thick but did not hesitate. “One.”

God smiled and raised the whip again. 

He felled blow after blow. Each was meticulously, methodically counted by Lucifer; even when the number climbed into the hundreds. Blood stained all of Lucifer’s back; it had trickled down his firm buttocks, muscular thighs, and knees, and toned calves. It had pooled at the ground of Lucifer’s feet, slowly congealing and causing Lucifer’s feet to slip every so often. The room smelled heavily of copper and the pungent scent of ichor. 

Lucifer was trembling, fingers curling and uncurling against the slick concrete. His legs threatened to give way at any moment. It had been hours, if not longer – days. Yet Lucifer had endured, never protested, never begged for mercy. God couldn’t mistake the smell of Lucifer’s tears, even if his voice didn’t betray the emotion or the musky smell of Lucifer’s lust.

Vanishing the whip with a flick of His wrist, God walked towards His child. Lucifer didn’t move, or speak, but let out a gentle noise, be it of plea or encouragement, God wasn’t sure. He stopped behind Lucifer and placed his hands on Lucifer’s back, over the swollen, bleeding and scabbed wounds. His fingers moved carefully over each one and they slowly faded into nothingness, leaving Lucifer’s body unmarred once more. 

God folded Lucifer into his embrace and kissed the top of the unruly head of brown hair he was sporting. He could feel Lucifer’s arousal against His body, pressing insistently, but Lucifer never pushed – tentative almost fearful. Lucifer curled into His body, face pressed against His neck like a frightened babe. 

God tilted Lucifer’s face up to his own, peered into his eyes and smiled. He could see all of Lucifer’s Grace. Shining within him like a beacon of hope; brighter than it had been in eons. The Morningstar once again. He could see the love Lucifer felt for Him and feel it also. 

God brushed His hand over Lucifer’s abdomen, which twitched in needy, hopeful anticipation under His hand. God pressed a soft kiss against His son’s temple and pressed His hand firmly against the hard muscle of Lucifer’s borrowed body and let His love and almighty power loose.

Lucifer screamed in His arms, jerking and thrashing as wave after wave of pure, endless pleasure crested and crashed over him. Undiluted, raw love rolled over and through his body as God burned the Doubt, Fear and Anger out of Lucifer’s Grace and the demon blood out of Sam Winchester’s body.

Lucifer sobbed when God finally removed His hand. The archangel sagged in his Father’s arms, tears soaking his vessel’s face, which was flushed red, and warm, pleasantly warm. “Father?”

God framed Lucifer’s face with His hands, tilted his head back and forced Lucifer to look at Him. He smiled and kissed him softly on the mouth. “Welcome home, child.”