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"Tell me a story, Luce."
Internally, the Devil groaned at the request. When Sam wanted a story, he almost always wanted one about Lucifer's past, and what Sam wanted, he more often than not got. Lucifer was beginning to think the human's 'puppy dog pout' possessed magical qualities. With a heavy, reluctant sigh, the archangel leaned forwards, elbows propped on his knees as his frost-kissed eyes bore hole into Sam's skull.
"Once upon a time..." He began in his usual storytelling voice, low and smooth and mellifluous. "there was a boy who wanted to know too much about my past, so I decided to smite him just for the fun of it. The end."
Sam's eager, hopeful smile fell in an instant, suddenly replaced by an infamous 'bitchface' (number thirty-two, Lucifer noted, the 'that is so not what I asked for' bitchface.) "C'mon, Luce. Just one story? Besides, you wouldn't smite me anyway." When Lucifer raised a brow at the last part, Sam just laughed. "You like me too much."
"Do not..." Lucifer insisted in a grumble, though he knew he was lying to himself. "Fine, you stubborn brat. I'll tell you a story."
******
Back when the universe was new and the angels were a young species, it was customary for older angels to accompany their younger siblings when they were learning how to fly. This started when Michael- who, being the oldest, had been forced to rather awkwardly figure out the process for himself- had taught Lucifer, since the two had been practically inseparable since the creation of the younger. Then Michael had gone on to teach Raphael, and Lucifer had taught Gabriel.
Well, tried to, anyway.
The only problem was, after the first few attempts, Gabriel didn't want to fly anymore. He was absolutely certain that he wouldn't be able to do it despite his brothers' reassurances, and he would run around sobbing about how he was a flightless angel, that if he flew, he would absolutely, positively plummet to his death. Even as a little fledgling, he was quite the drama queen.
It wasn't until the first batch of seraphim were made, eager to learn how to fly from their older brothers, that Gabriel began to regret his decision. He wasn't much older than them, really, but he was an archangel. That meant some little show-off lesser angel like Balthazar shouldn't have been able to fly circles around him!
Of course, he couldn't go to Lucifer or Michael or Raphael for help. Not without getting an 'I told you so' of epic proportions, anyway. And his pride wouldn't allow him to ask a little sibling for help, so that just left teaching himself. But Michael had done it, after all, so it couldn't be that hard. Besides, Gabriel still remembered nearly all of what Lucifer had taught him before the youngest of the archangels had given up on learning to fly.
He would be fine.
After a few shaky attempts, Gabriel finally managed to get in the air, fluffy wings giving unsteady, unpracticed flaps. Undaunted by his inexperience, the little archangel began his wobbly exploration of Heaven from above.
Now, all angels knew that they were supposed to stay away from Heaven's edge. There was never a reason given as to why, but 'why' shouldn't have been a problem with a race of beings meant to be entirely obedient. Nevertheless, Gabriel couldn't help his curiosity, and as he neared Paradise's edge, he began hearing the whispers. Of course, they weren't in Enochian, so he had no idea what they were, but if anything, that only served to further the little angel's desire to find out what they were.
When he finally reached the edge (well, as much of an edge as Heaven has), he came face-to-teeth with what creatures were creating the whispers.
Leviathan.
It wasn't as if he knew the name of the huge, dark masses full of teeth, but he knew to run. Given his weak flight skills, he didn't get far before one of the things sunk claws into one of his fluffy, golden wings, tearing out a large chunk of feathers. The next grab actually snagged a wing, large claws driving through it and spilling bright blue Grace from the wound. Now screaming, Gabriel redoubled his efforts to get away, though not without sustaining more damage to his wings. Always his wings, never hie body.
If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn they were laughing at him, toying with him.
When he finally made it back to the center of Heaven, he was on the verge of collapsing, sobbing vehemently as his now-mangled wings trembled behind him, still oozing from their wounds. "M-Micha! Luci!" He screamed, unable to concentrate long enough to get his brothers' full names out.
Hearing Gabriel's cry- more like a screech, really- the pair, along with Raphael, who was often overlooked in times such as these, came running. Instantly, Lucifer began trying to calm his little brother, stroking the uninjured parts of his wings soothingly and trying to coax him into telling them what happened. Meanwhile, Michael was trying to herd their other siblings away from the scene, and Raphael was carefully inspecting Gabriel's wings, assessing the damage.
Eventually, the three of them managed to calm Gabriel enough that he could hiccup and sniffle his way through his story about flying, the whispers, and the huge, oily black things full of teeth that had tried to get him. The elder pair of archangels recognized the Leviathan from their brother's description, having been made aware of the creatures' existence by their Father in case of something like this occurring.
Of course Michael, outraged and rather irrational as he usually was when he got into 'Michael the big brother warrior' mode, wanted to go slay the beasts himself for what they'd done, righteous and tempestuous in his rage.
(It was Lucifer who convinced him to at the very least speak with Father first. This resulted in the Leviathans' imprisonment in the newly-created Purgatory. Michael was rather upset that he wasn't allowed to smite them to make up for what they did to Gabriel.)
******
"Luce, that wasn't about you," Sam sighed, fingers idly combing through the Devil's hair since he had taken to using Sam's lap as a pillow.
"I was in it!" Lucifer protested with a huff, turning his head and attempting to nip at Sam's fingers. "I think that counts. Besides," he paused for a moment, frowning slightly. "There aren't many stories about me that end well, Sam. I wanted to tell you a story with a happy ending..."
Sam could hear how earnest, how tired Lucifer sounded, so he didn't push it. Instead, he shifted so they were laying down together, archangel wrapped up in an embrace courtesy of Sam's arms.
"Then let's make some of our own."