[For the second time over the course of this conversation, Lucifer shot Sam a confused look. He'd already explained this, over and over, nearly every time they spoke. Had Sam not been paying attention?]

I want you to understand.

[He wanted Sam to know him, to see their similarities, and though he wouldn't ever quantify or articulate it, empathize with him. Sam was created, through explicit intervention for thousands of years, to be the only creature who could really understand him. Sam was an echo of him, as he had been and as he was. He was supposed to get it, all of it.

He wasn't supposed to hate him on principle.]

I've told you this. [A touch of irritation settled in Nick's face and Lucifer's tone.] Unless you mean your body--but, really, Sam? The rules for consenting are open for interpretation but I don't employ them that liberally.