Hell's Greatest Weapon

Chapter 29: Thousand-Piece Puzzle

Dean had told you about the time that his brother got out of the pit, how after a year of being the only soul in the cage with Lucifer aside from Adam, his brother came back different.  He was broken, shattered, and if you could remember any time other than those surrounding the pair that souls were dragged back into their bodies, maybe you would be able to understand a little better. But what mostly stuck out to you was the idea that the younger brother's soul was split into pieces that he needed to pull back together.  It made sense to you, as soon as that memory came flooding back into your consciousness, that every time you went down to the cage and came back up, you saw the two creatures you were looking at now. You could go back thousands of years and after every refresher course, after every time going back to the pit in order to 'straighten yourself back out' and 'erase the humanity' that 'contaminated' you, you were haunted by these two numnuts for a good couple months following. Sometimes years, you didn't know. It varied.

But what was even more curious to you was the way they changed.  You never remembered them changing.

Sup was bigger, probably up to your waist by this point; his voice sounded more like a child's than a chew-toy's, and he was much easier to listen to at this point.  He wasn't so squeaky, so uncomfortable on your ears.

Id, too, had changed, only he was about an inch taller than you rather than the decent foot he held, previously.  His voice was still deep and incredibly intimidating, but he was getting smaller, almost wasting away in front of your eyes; that did not, of course, reflect the anger he held. No, he was still as angry as ever, as bitter as ever, was always hitting on Sup (not in the flirtatious way) while screaming at you.

"What's your last memory, Y/N?"

You brought your attention back to Death, who raised his eyebrows before handing a paper bag to you, once again trying to get you to eat something.  It was a kind enough gesture and you knew Death was only trying to keep you sustained in order to give you energy, but your appetite was gone; you felt yourself getting thinner—it had been easily a week, maybe a week and a half on earth since you'd gotten out of the cage, and you hadn't eaten much more than a couple sandwiches.

No appetite.  You were busy.

You shook your head and watched Death as he shrugged and leaned back in the chair before repeating himself.  "Your last memory, what is it?"

Why are you wasting your time? Id was laying on his back between you and Death, tossing what seemed to be a black pool ball into the air and catching it above his head before tossing the ball back into the air and repeating the cycle. You can hear Crowley calling to you, he probably thinks you're dead. That's cruel to leave him waiting.

Who are you to tell her about being cruel? Sup snapped back at him, removing his attention from the book he was reading just long enough to earn a sharp glare from Id.  You were almost certain Id was going to chuck the pool ball at his smaller counterpart, but he seemed to brush Sup's comment off easily enough.

"I was in the bunker." You said, finally bringing your eyes up to Death.  "I was with Sam and Dean Winchester, who are hunters that started the apocalypse and—"

And are the damned reason you got sent back to the pit. Id interjected, pausing his tossing of the pool ball just long enough to look at you.  I mean if that's not reason to go kill people, I don't know what is.

"And Sam was out doing..." You continued, pausing to try and recollect what had happened.  "Sam was out hunting or something and I remember... I remember a piano and a big room with wooden floors."

That was the ballroom!

"A ballroom." You nodded, "I was in a ballroom."

Silence fell between everyone in the room as Death looked at you, Id sighed, shook his head, and silently began throwing the ball once again; Sup went back to reading, the smile on his face lighting up though he held silence.  Finally Death sighed and brought a hand to his mouth, using the armrest on the chair to prop his elbow up.