"You didn't finish it now!"

Sam felt a tugging on his pants and looked down. It was Gadreel.

"Can we eat?"

Laughing, Sam said, "Yeah, we can go eat. Let's go, Gabe. We'll finish the story later."

Not looking entirely with their compromise, Gabriel trailed after Sam and Gadreel, still holding his dog.

The table was already set, complete with placemats under the plates and phonebooks on the chair. Michael had already claimed a seat. Dean was just putting out a plate of hamburgers when Sam and the three angels entered.

Castiel's eyes lit up at the sight. He leaned forward in an attempt to escape Sam's arms and made gimme-hands. "Buggers!"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, Cas, burgers." He took the youngest angel from Sam and plopped him down on the chair with the tallest stack of phonebooks. Sam lifted Gabriel up and set him on the chair next to Castiel.

Gadreel tried to clamber onto the chair next to Michael, but the older angel leaned over and slapped his hands over the chair. "No! Lucifer sits here!"

Gadreel's bottom lip began to tremble. Sam quickly said, "Whoa, hey, don't cry. Look, you can sit next to me, okay?"

Gadreel brightened at that, and he happily allowed himself to be lifted onto the chair next to Sam.

"Where is Lucifer?" asked Dean, setting down a bowl of salad next to the hamburgers. "And Bobby and Raphael?"

"I'll go find them," Sam said.

Bobby and Raphael, it turned out, were in Bobby's study. Bobby was asleep in a chair at his desk, and Raphael was sitting on his lap with Gadreel's wooden puzzle spread out in front of him. Sam couldn't help but grin.

"Hey, kiddo," Sam said quietly. Raphael looked up. "Want some food?"

Raphael nodded and held his arms out to be picked up. Sam lifted him up carefully, trying to disturb Bobby as little as possible.

Sam set him down in the hallway. "Do you know where Lucifer is?"

Raphael shook his head.

"Okay, thanks anyway. Go eat some lunch, and tell Dean that Bobby's sleeping."

Raphael ran off toward the kitchen.

Sam looked in both of the bedrooms, the bathrooms, and even the pantry, but he couldn't find Lucifer anywhere.

He poked his head into the kitchen to make sure Lucifer hadn't gone in there while Sam was looking for him, but neither Dean nor any of the other five angels had seen him.

"Maybe he went outside," Dean suggested. "Want me to go check?"

God knew Sam hated spending more time with Lucifer than was necessary, but he declined the offer. He knew Dean would scold Lucifer harshly for going outside without supervision - not that he shouldn't be reprimanded, but Dean was likely to go over-the-top with his punishment.

Sam went out on the front porch. He cupped his hands around his mouth, took a deep breath, and shouted, "Lucifer!"

When no four-year-old came running, Sam sighed. He was not looking forward to the prospect of looking through all the junk cars on the lot. Then, a flash of white in the front seat of the Impala caught his eye. Sam was suddenly very grateful that Dean was still inside. He'd flip if he knew Lucifer was in the Impala unsupervised

"Lucifer," said Sam, crossing to the car, "it's time for lunch."

The white edge of Lucifer's wing didn't move. Sam opened the driver's seat door and almost laughed. Lucifer's three sets of wings were cocooning his body. Not even his fingers or the tips of his fingers could be seen.

"I can see you, you know. Feathers don't make you invisible."

"Go 'way!"

Had it been Cas - or, hell, any of the other angels - Sam probably wouldn't have hesitated to simply pick him up and carry him inside, but this was Lucifer, so hesitate he did.

"Lucifer," he tried again, "c'mon. Dean made burgers."

"I don't want any!"

"Dude. Hurry up, or I'm gonna have to put you in time-out."

Lucifer's head poked out of his wing cocoon, making him look like a bizarre turtle.

"No! I'm gonna stay here forever."

Sam remembered something he'd read on one of those parenting websites he'd found: "You probably won't understand most things your child does or says, but ask them to explain and do your best to support them."

Sam knelt down next to the Impala, wincing a bit as his knees popped.

"Lucifer," he said. He made his voice quieter, less sharp. "Why don't you want to eat lunch?"

"I do."

Leaning back on his heels, Sam frowned and asked, "Then why won't you come inside?"

Lucifer mumbled something unintelligible and covered his head with his wings again.

"Dude, seriously. I can't help if you won't tell me what's wrong."

An odd noise was coming from underneath the wing cocoon, and the cocoon itself was visibly trembling. Sam took a deep, calming breath, then took a wing between his thumb and forefinger and gently lifted it. The back of Lucifer's head was revealed. He was shaking.

"Are you crying?" Sam blurted out incredulously. The toddlers cried, sure, but it was usually loud, violent crying that begged for attention. The way Lucifer was crying now was near-silent sobs, punctuated by little gasps and hiccoughs.

"No," insisted the angel.

Sam closed his eyes and reminded himself, he's powerless; the worst thing he can do is bite you. Then he lifted Lucifer out of the car by his armpits. Ignoring his squawk of protest, Sam sat down on the dirt and set Lucifer on his lap.

"Look at me. No, hey, look at me," he repeated when Lucifer avoided his eyes. When Sam was certain he had Lucifer's full attention, Sam asked him, "Why don't you want to go inside?"

Lucifer's bottom lip trembled. Then, "You don' wan' me!"

Startled, Sam said, "What?"

"You won' let me sit by you an' Dean'll not cut my burger an' Bobby'll make the mean face!"

Sam was taken aback. "You're upset because Bobby's grumpy and Dean won't cut up your food?"

"An' I never get to sit next by you! You hate me!" With that, he covered his face with his tiny hands and burst into tears again.

Oh. Oh. Lucifer was upset because the adults weren't treating him like the other angels. They were holding grudges against him for things he didn't remember doing. The kid was four, and they were treating him like he was still a millennia-old, nearly-omnipotent fallen angel.

Sam thought back to a couple days ago, when Lucifer had asked Sam to play with him. Sam had claimed he still had research to do, and now he recalled how lonely and forlorn Lucifer had looked as he played with his plastic army men by himself.

Then, yesterday, Lucifer had wanted to sit next to Sam, but Raphael had sat there instead. Later in the day, Lucifer had crushed Raphael's fingers with his miniature fighter jet and thrown a tantrum when they put him in time-out.

Just a few hours ago, Lucifer had asked to sit on the couch while Sam read Green Eggs and Ham, but Sam had told him that, between himself, Castiel, and Gadreel, there wasn't enough room.

How long had they been treating him like a pariah without noticing the effect it had on him? No wonder the toddler thought they hated him.

Tentatively, Sam wrapped his arms around the boy, being mindful of his wings, and pulled him to his chest. Lucifer immediately threw his arms around Sam's neck and started sobbing into his shoulder. Sam rubbed light circles between his shoulder blades and carded his fingers through Lucifer's hair, all the while rocking him back and forth and murmuring, "Shh, it's okay, it's okay."

When Lucifer was all cried out, Sam asked, "Do you want to go eat lunch now? I'll let you sit next to me."

"Dean," Lucifer mumbled.

"I'll make him cut up your burger."

"Bobby."

"Bobby won't even be there. He's sleeping."

After a moment's hesitation, Sam felt Lucifer nod.

"Okay, up we go." It was a tad bit difficult to stand up when he had a toddler attached to him like a limpet, but San was getting used to it - toddlers were clingy.

"Wait! My stuff!"

"What?"

"My stuff is in the car!"

Sam looked in the backseat of the Impala, and, lo and behold, there lay Lucifer's pyjamas, a t-shirt and pants, and the Ziploc bag filled with plastic soldiers.

"What's this in here for?"

"Was tryna run away," mumbled Lucifer into Sam's shirt, "but I di'n know how t' make the car go."

Sam snorted. "I'll bring it all inside after we eat."

At the porch, Sam set Lucifer down, but when he held out his hand, Sam took it in his own larger hand and led him into the house.

Dean raised his eyebrows at the hand-holding, but Sam shook his head at him, silently asking him to save his questions for later.

"Heya, Sammy," he said. "I was about to send out a search party for you."

"Sorry. Lucifer had to have a talk."

Dean furrowed his brow in silent question. Sam mouthed I'm okay and Dean relaxed. Any other interaction was stopped by Michael shouting, "Lucifer! I saved you a seat!"

"No, I'mma sit with Sam now."

Michael frowned, like he didn't understand. "But I saved it for you."

"Lucifer can sit next to you at dinner," Sam assured him, "but he's going to sit next to me for now."

"No, me!" piped up Gadreel.

"You can still sit next to me. Lucifer can sit on my other side."

Throughout lunch, Lucifer smiled so much that he could hardly chew his bite-sized pieces of cut up hamburger. His good mood continued when Sam agreed to play with him afterwards.

"Pew! Pew! Pew!" Lucifer made high-pitched gun noises with his little kid voice. He gestured with his plastic army men like the were shooting down the tiny plane Sam was whooshing around.

"Uh oh!" exclaimed Sam. He pretended to crash the plane.

"It's hurt!" said Lucifer. He scooped it up and ran over to Raphael. "Raph'el, its wing is hurt!"

Raphael looked up from his own wings, which he was examining with great interest.

As Sam watched the little boys interact, Dean came up behind him and ruffles his hair. Annoyed, Sam pushed his hand away.

"Quit it, jerk!"

"Make me, bitch," Dean shot back with a grin, but it soon melted. "What the hell is up with you and Lucifer?"

"Whaddaya mean?" asked Sam, even though he knew exactly what Dean was talking about.

"You went out to find him at lunch, and since you came back, you've been acting like he's your own damn kid, and not the actual fucking devil!"

Sam flinched. "Volume, Dean. The kids are still in the room." He leaned against the bottom of the sofa and tilted his head back to look at his brother. "Dean, he's a kid. He barely remembers anything from before. The rest of them are exactly the same. I'm not gonna be a dick to a little kid because of something he doesn't know he did. And you shouldn't, either."

Just then, Lucifer came running back, Raphael at his side.

"Raphael made the plane better!" He held it out so they could see the pretend gunshot wound covered by a fabric bandage from Raphael's toy veterinarian kit.

Dean stared down at the plane for a few moments, and then, in a shockingly kind voice, said, "That's great, guys."

Lucifer looked up at Dean uncertainly, but then Raphael tugged on Dean's hand and said, "Play with us." In no time at all, Dean was laying on his stomach and laughing as he helped Lucifer and Raphael wage war on Gabriel's stuffed corgi.

The battle quickly devolved into chaos. The other angels joined in, too. It seemed to be Sam, Lucifer, Gadreel, and Michael against Dean, Gabriel, and Raphael. Dean tried to recruit the Castiel, too, but the littlest angel seemed more interested in hiding the army men than in playing with them.

"Hey- hey, don’t touch that! Get off of there. What did I tell you two minutes ago?” Dean frowned and rubbed at his eyes as a little streak of giggles and golden fuzz careened past his chair. He looked tiredly up at Castiel. “So how the hell does this get fixed?”

Little Gabriel took a running leap at one of the motel beds, landed with a squeaky “oof,” then slid right back off and stumbled toward Dean again. He collided purposefully with the hunter’s leg and wrapped himself around it, grinning up at its disgruntled owner.

"I don’t know," said Castiel. He sat carefully on the edge of the other bed, where an apparently two-year-old Balthazar was full-body cuddling with one of the pillows. "I have no idea how this happened." He laid a hand between Balthazar’s tawny little wings and rubbed soothingly. The fledgling cooed and snuggled deeper into the pillow.

"Well, ‘babysitter’ isn’t in my job description. What are you gonna do with them?" Dean wiggled his leg, then lifted his foot off the floor and shook it. Gabriel hung on like a barnacle and giggled.

"I don’t know," Castiel repeated.

Dean managed to stand and take few heavy steps with Gabriel still affixed to his calf. He hobbled over to the bed and sat opposite Castiel, and heaved his leg up onto the mattress. “Alright, fuzzball. Time to let go.” He tried to pry the little fingers from where they dug into his jeans, but Gabriel whined and held tighter.

“He seems rather attached to you.”

Dean glanced up and scowled at the hint of a smile on Castiel’s face. “Ha ha, you’re hilarious.” He looked back down at the fledgling who seemed to be doing his best to meld himself permanently into his leg. “I thought you hated me, dude. Why’re you being so clingy? Come on, off.” He wrapped his hands around Gabriel’s middle and tugged. Gabriel giggled again and refused to let go. “Okay, you wanna play like that? C’mere, you little featherduster.” Dean bent his knee and pulled his lower leg in closer, and pinched at the little angel’s sides.

Gabriel squeaked and wriggled. Dean kept pulling and poking until the fledgling finally let go with a giggle and curled up. Dean’s freedom lasted all of three seconds before Gabriel latched on again and smiled up at him.

"What, didn’t learn your lesson the first time?" Another round of prodding and giggles was followed by immediate reattachment once again. 

Castiel suspected that Dean was more amused than his continued gruff manner let on as the hunter and fledgling’s back-and-forth devolved into little more than a one-sided tickle fight. Gabriel’s squeals roused Balthazar from his sleepy daze, and Castiel ran a hand through his sandy hair as the fledgling relinquished his pillow in favor of the older angel’s lap.

—-

When Sam walked in a while later, he was met with the sound of piercing shrieks and giggles and the sight of his brother hunched over on the bed, blowing raspberries on a bare little belly while downy golden wings flailed against the mattress. Castiel looked surprisingly comfortable where he sat against the headboard with a second small winged figure cuddled against his chest.