He sees it then, and it strangles the faintest sound from him.

It hadn't been about hate--not exactly, not all. It had been helplessness, fear. Inability to imaging her dying on the other side. A refusal to let anyone hurt her but him--the same way that he had loved Gabriel so fiercely and still been able to drive a sword through his heart.

He doesn't realize how sick that is, of course. Lucifer still doesn't even realize he's evil.

"I never wanted to lose you," he whispered. The moment he'd thought she was dead, the despair had nearly swallowed him back up. He can't share that with her; he offers just a glimpse, the way he would try to explain Hell.