Chapter 4: "This is our revenge."

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Men of Letters Bunker, Lebanon, Kansas

    A few weeks had passed since Sam's and Cassandra's talk in the snow. Sam and Dean went on a couple of cases and left Cassandra at the Bunker. Castiel showed up in the midst of the first case, rummaging through the file room.

    Cassandra leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest, arching a single eyebrow at the angel. She cleared her throat, grabbing his attention. He spun around, rolling his eyes when he realized it was just the Nephilim. "Hello, Lucifer," she greeted, raising her chin slightly.

    "Cassandra," he returned. "You just missed Dean."

    "I know. That was the whole point," Cassandra told him, pushing herself off of the doorframe and making her way towards the Devil. She pulled out a few pieces of paper and furrowed her eyebrows, turning towards her uncle and holding them up. "Explain, please."

    "I need something to draw Amara out."

    "And you think the Men of Letters would have something on God's sister," Cassandra replied slowly, unconvinced. She nodded and licked her lips, tossing the papers back in the box. "Smart."

    Lucifer rolled his eyes and shoved her off to the side, smirking when he saw her stumble out of the corner of his eye. He ignored the scowl etched on her lips and pulled the sheets of paper back out. "No, but maybe something similar. Something that could give me an idea. You got anything?" Cassandra opened her mouth to reply but Lucifer cut her off, waving his hand. "Nevermind. Why do I bother asking? You barely know how to use your powers." He turned towards her. "And my Grace."

    "Oh, can it, you bitch. You're in my friend who, by the way, is an angel. Draw from his power."

    "My Grace is stronger and you stole it."

    "No, Michael stole it and Gabriel hid it. I just followed Gabriel's orders. So don't blame me, blame your brothers." Cassandra shoved him back and pulled more papers out of the box, completely blocking out his voice. Her eyes skimmed over the ink-stained paper before she stopped, pointing to a paragraph to hold her spot and looked up, her lips parted in concentration. "Six-eighty-four," she muttered, her eyes skimming over the numbered boxes.

    "What are you looking for?" Lucifer asked, his gaze following the Nephilim as she crossed the room and stood on her toes, pulling down a box from the top shelf. He furrowed his eyebrows when she opened it and pulled out a pair of cuffs, letting them dangle from her index finger. "Cassandra, is that—"

    "Yes," she growled, glancing at the fallen archangel over her shoulder. "Angel-proof." She slid the lid over the box and put it back up, turning the cuffs over in her hand as she headed back towards Lucifer. "Why would they have these?"

    "Dean does seem to be the kinky type."

    Cassandra glared at Lucifer under her long, dark lashes before rolling her eyes and scoffing. She earned a snicker in return so she flicked her wrist distractedly, smiling to herself when Lucifer was thrown against the wall by an invisible force.

    He groaned and turned onto his stomach, pushing himself from the ground. "You don't have a sense of humor, I see," Lucifer grunted.

    "Bite me, Horns," Cassandra spat.

    Lucifer scowled at the nickname she had given him during their time in the Cage but said nothing. He only watched as she slipped the handcuffs in her back pocket and she glared at the paper before it burst into flames. She let it drop to the floor in a pile of ash, any remnant of a way to weaken her now destroyed. Cassandra smirked, locking eyes with her uncle as she did so.

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