The Amputation and its Aftermath

by Angstaholic (NerdoftheTaiga)

Summary:

What if, after Lucifer cut off Michael’s wings after the Coliseum battle, he immediately regretted the decision and tried to help Michael instead? Does Michael even want help? Would he ever accept it from his twin after all that has happened?

Chapter 1

Summary:

Lucifer severs Michael's wings after the Coliseum battle. Michael wishes his brother had just killed him instead.

"AAARGGHHHHHH"

Michael's screams echo through the arena as Lucifer slices off his wings in one powerful blow, without any warning.  He barely catches glimpses of Mazikeen's smirk and Amenadiel's self-satisfied smile as black and white spots begin dancing in front of his eyes. He wonders through the pain-filled haze why he wasn't granted the mercy of non-existence, why his brother had taken his wings and not his head.  The pain was supposed to be over.  It's worse.

Blood pounds in his ears.  He just barely hears Lucifer giving some speech on "Second chances and how a (wretched) being like Michael also deserves one."

His back screams for mercy and relief; newfound pain shoots through his back and shoulders as he is forced to kneel in front of his brother while he holds the flaming sword high.  He has to clutch the railing to keep from falling as he kneels.  

He can't face Gabriel, Raphael and all of his siblings after this humiliation.  He failed.

The part of him that was once the Sword and Right Hand of God screams his failures in his mind.  YOU FAILED TO PROTECT HEAVEN. 
YOU FAILED IN YOUR DUTY AS THE DEFENDER OF FAITH.  The Devil sits on the Holy throne now and there's nothing YOU can do to change it.

His strength is failing him.  Even kneeling is too much.  Heaviness settles in his limbs--his remaining limbs--and his heart.

Why didn't he kill me?  I should have died.  I deserve to die.  Destructive thoughts assault his mind as he sinks to the ground, laying his head on the hot stone. At last, the merciful darkness of unconsciousness embraces him.

---

The pain returns before consciousness does.  Michael is in a dark well drowning in agony, struggling to swim deeper into the darkness.  But he is dragged upward into light, into awareness, and the agony in his back increases a thousand-fold.  Weight presses cruelly on the raw stumps of his wings and he screams.  He twists to try to free himself from the torment and sees Lucifer looming over him.  The Devil himself is Michael’s torturer.  Lucifer is growling words at him but they make no sense.

“Don’t touch me!” Michael screams, desperately trying to pull himself away from the brutal pressure.  “Don’t touch me!” he screams again, and again, as his hands scrabble futilely for purchase against a floor slick with blood.  Lucifer only bears down harder, until Michael can only gasp out shuddering sobs, his cheek resting on the bloody floor as the blood grows sticky.  His fingers twitch weakly.

“Damn it, Michael!” Lucifer gasps, breathing hard from above. “You were bleeding out.  I’m trying to help!”

Help me?  I must be delirious, Michael thinks as blessed blackness enfolds him again.

Chapter 2

Summary:

Lucifer severs Michael's wings...this time from Lucifer's POV.

Lucifer is confused, overwhelmed by conflicting feelings as he looks down at Michael kneeling at his feet.   They had agreed to fight to the death, the dark ending the light or vice-versa.  And here they are, light has won and if anyone deserves to die it is Michael—he’d caused Dan’s death, killed Chloe (thankfully that was temporary), gaslighted God and more—so why is Lucifer just standing here at a loss?

But looking at the kneeling, crestfallen, utterly defeated figure, he just can't bring the flaming sword down on the well-shaped neck bared before him—a neck that looks like his…and could have been his. If their positions were reversed, Michael would not hesitate.  Lucifer’s head would already be rolling down the coliseum steps. 

But death by the flaming sword is final.  No going back.  No second chances.

When Lucifer left Hell for LA, removing his wings gave him a fresh start to his life, severing his obligations to his Father along with the then-despised appendages.

Doing the same would also help my brother, he finds himself thinking. With that sudden insight, he cuts off the glorious dark wings, fashioned from the darkness of space itself, in one swift stroke. He spares his twin's life.

"AAAARGHHHHHH!"

Michael’s screams fill the vastness of the arena and Lucifer feels something drop to the pit of his stomach. 

It wasn't supposed to hurt like this. Lucifer didn't even whimper when Maze amputated his wings, just gritted his teeth and aimed his hatred at his Father.

Why is Michael screaming so much?

He liberated him from the divine burden. He let him live.  Michael should be relieved.

Trying to bring the situation under control, Lucifer looks out at the faces of his siblings and begins to speak (in a very Dad-like tone, far more than he would want to admit).  "In my time here on Earth, I've learned everyone deserves a second chance. Even me. Even you, Michael."

Amenadiel goes down on one knee, then others follow.  Lucifer sees Michael struggle to bend the knee to him, falling unsteadily to both knees, which admittedly feels good to watch.

Then, Michael collapses on the steps, blood steadily gushing out of his wounds, soaking the stone of the arena and painting bright crimson streams that creep down the steps below Michael’s crumpled form.

"Oh. My. Me!" Lucifer gasps as he rushes to his brother's aid.

Chapter 3

Summary:

Michael finds himself in Lucifer's penthouse. He can't understand why Lucifer would be trying to help him.

The next time Michael wakes up, the terrible weight crushing his wing stumps is gone but the amputation sites still feel like two barbed spears buried in his back, twisting and catching at his slightest movement.  His bad shoulder aches horribly.  He once would have described that as terrible pain, but against the other agonies it recedes to mere discomfort, the hurt almost soothing in its familiarity.

He is lying on a blanket on the floor, a pillow under his head.  Confused, he lifts his head to try to look around, hissing with the searing pain the motion causes.  He feels immediately dizzy—he guesses he had lost a lot of blood—but is able to take in that he is in Lucifer’s penthouse.

Panic crashes down.  Is Lucifer here? Is he going to attack again? He can barely lift his head but his legs still tremble and twitch with the urge to run, to escape.

Weak, stupid, failure, he berates himself.  He can do whatever he wants to me, I’m powerless. Useless.

He tries to push himself up slightly with his good arm. He realizes his armor is gone, and his shirt. Bandages are wound tightly around his chest.  The bandages press on his stumps, and every breath he takes makes them squeeze harder, sparking grinding jolts of pain with every inhale.

Even his good arm can’t hold him long.  When he slumps back down, the extra spike of pain causes him to inhale sharply—which itself tightens the bandages again, increasing the agony.  Michael finds himself sobbing, trapped in a spiral in which every gasp of pain makes the pain worse.  He tries to roll to his side, clawing at the bandages, trying to drag them off.  Hurts. I just need to stop breathing.  Pull off these…

…bandages. They’re tight to stop of the bleeding, of course.  If he can get them off, he’ll bleed again, bleed out, and this will all be over.  Panting, he tries to find an edge he can tear.

“Michael!”  It’s Lucifer.

No no no no…Still tugging weakly at the gauze trapping him, Michael whines in frustration.  Too weak to even tear this fragile material that’s forcing him to live.

“Michael, no, please stop!” Lucifer is kneeling next to him, trying to still Michael’s hands where they are pulling feebly at the bandage.  “Stop, brother.”

Michael gives up, going limp.  “Hurts,” he whispers, not meaning to say it aloud at all.

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer says.

I thought you didn’t lie, Michael thinks.

“I don’t know why it hurts you so much,” Lucifer continues.  “I worry you can’t heal with—with stumps remaining.  We should probably take what’s left off at the joint, like I did for mine.  But I don’t think you could handle that right now.”

Michael doesn’t respond to him, except in his thought.  I don’t care. Cut deeper if you want to. There’s not much blood left in me.  Just let it out.

Chapter 4

Summary:

Lucifer calls Raphael to help deal with Michael's wounds.

"Raphael, if you can hear me, I need you here in my penthouse." Lucifer prays to Raphael as he tries frantically to keep Michael's hands off his bandages.

"Michael, stop, you're hurting yourself further."  Michael is weak but he won’t stop plucking at the gauze like it’s burning him.  Can’t he see I am trying to make it better?

With a flutter of wings, a tall figure lands on the balcony of the lavish LA penthouse.  Lucifer feels a flood of relief.

***

Raphael hears the prayer—the command—from his new God and hastens to present himself at the penthouse.  He lands on the balcony and rushes inside to see a tall figure crumpled up on the floor and the similar figure hunched over him.

"Raphael, brother!" Lucifer breathes in sharply before continuing, "Please help him."

Raphael’s stomach twists painfully at the sight of his powerful and majestic brother crumpled on the floor struggling to tear off thin, blood-soaked gauze. He warily looks at Lucifer and kneels beside Michael.

"Is it a test of allegiance, my liege? Do I need to remove any more of his limbs to prove my loyalty to you?" Tears prick at the corners of his ocean blue eyes as he utters these words about his favorite elder sibling.

The one who easily picked him up and took him for long flights across the vastness of space when he was a fledgling angel.

The one who showed him how to fashion piercing needles from plants.

The one who was strict and stiff but a responsible and caring brother nonetheless.

Raphael remembers how Michael slept less and less after Uriel was murdered, mumbling to himself about how he failed to protect a brother.

How he was crushed under the pressure of running Heaven and Earth when Dad went off his rocker and Amenadiel was busy making himself nearly human spreading his seed instead of doing his job as the Eldest.

"Raphael...." Lucifer seems a loss. He takes a deep breath, apparently steeling himself.  "I need you to remove his wing stumps."

"My liege, may I put him to sleep while I carry this procedure out?"  Raphael does not question the command, but whatever Lucifer’s motivation, it is actually what Raphael thinks would be the best approach.  Remove the awkward remnants of Michael’s glorious wings, and remove the wounds caused by the flaming sword…wounds that might never heal on their own.

"Anything, ANYTHING to lessen his pain," Lucifer pleads.

Raphael scoffs internally but keeps his facade neutral as he pours a sedating herbal concoction down Michael's throat. He is too weak to resist—Raphael isn’t sure Michael even knows he’s here—and drifts off while Lucifer sits by his twin’s head, massaging and lightly scratching his scalp. 

Raphael cuts the bandages free and winces at the sight of the stumps.  The flaming sword, sharp enough to cut through the world itself, has sliced so cleanly through Michael’s wings that the wounds almost look like medical illustrations, perfect cross sections of bone and muscle and skin.  There is not a hint of cauterization from the flaming aspect of the sword, no signs of incipient healing…in fact blood begins flowing freely again once the pressure of the bandage is released.  It’s almost worse than the jagged edges and splintered bone he half-expected. Raphael absorbs all the details in a flash and gets quickly to work.

Many cuts, blood-soaked towels and cotton balls, discarded bandages, and stinging medicines later, Michael lies fast asleep on his stomach on Lucifer's bed.

Lucifer looks at the healer. "You want a drink? I have several which may suit your taste."

"My liege, if I'm not needed anymore, I'd prefer to leave." At Lucifer’s nod of permission, Raphael kneels to show his subordination and then spreads his wings to head to the Silver City, unable to shake off Michael's painful moans from his mind.

Chapter 5

Summary:

Lucifer and Chloe have a fight about Michael.

Dusk melts into night.

Lucifer sits in his quiet penthouse, lights dimmed.  He can hear the faint commotion of his bustling club downstairs, but he has no desire to go down. Michael is still in his bed.  He has not moved since Raphael was here.  Lucifer watches his brother attentively, alert to the slightest motion.

Rise...
Fall...
Rise...
Fall...

The shallow motion of Michael’s chest is a relief.  Grateful that his brother is still breathing (albeit feebly), Lucifer goes to the bar to pour himself a stiff drink.  Today was supposed to mark a great victory.  Instead, he feels like it’s just been a series of mistakes.  He doesn’t regret sparing Michael’s life, but he hadn’t meant for amputating his wings to be such torture.  And Raphael’s fearful reaction to him feels wrong.  He isn’t Father, he doesn’t want to rule by fear.

He swallows half the whiskey he just poured and reaches for the bottle, intending to take it somewhere he can sit and keep an eye on Michael.

The sound of the elevator door opening catches his attention. Chloe enters, her face painted with fury.

"How dare you, Lucifer?"

"Detective, I-'' Lucifer mumbles, caught unaware by her angry tone and body language.

"This monster—" Chloe is shaking as she points her finger towards the unconscious angel resting supine on the silk sheets. "He killed Dan. Hurt so many people. Killed ME." Her voice rises with hurt rage.  Lucifer is frozen.  He had the same thoughts when he held the flaming sword above Michael, and it was all true…but…he had thought Chloe might be proud of him for being merciful.

Breathing in deeply, Chloe continues, "He deserves to die. He deserves the worst."

Yes, I thought so too, he wants to say. But I couldn’t do it…

Abruptly, Chloe pulls her gun from its holster and aims toward Michael’s still form. She snarls, "I'll make sure he doesn't exist anymore."

Horrified and disbelieving, but not wanting to hurt her, Lucifer throws himself at Chloe, pulling her down and twisting her gun-wielding arm behind her back. Pinning her to the ground, he gasps, "Detective!" She makes an angry, inarticulate noise, staring at him wrathfully.

Thinking, Oh my Me, why is this so difficult? Lucifer feels his own anger slipping out from behind his grief and confusion. Who is she to point fingers?

Past hurt and mistrust pours out of him now. "You conspired with that priest to poison me, to force me to Hell! It was because of your schemes that little Charlie was kidnapped, and demons were let loose on LA!" He takes the gun from her and throws it as far as possible from them. "Despite that, I forgave everything!  I kept you in my life!”  He shakes with fury and betrayal, and feels his eyes flash red.

He takes a deep breath.  Rage burns in her eyes too, but Lucifer forces himself to be calm, in control.  When he speaks again, his voice is cold and bitter. “If the presence of my injured and helpless brother inconveniences you so much, maybe you should leave until you can come to terms with his presence in my life." 

He lets her free from the position he’s been holding her in, after making sure she isn't concealing any more angel-injuring weapons.

Chloe scrambles to her feet, backing toward the elevator.  He thinks she is holding back tears, but her voice drips with what feels like hate.  "This isn't over, Lucifer." She glares at him until the elevator doors close.  Lucifer stares at the closed doors, then goes to the bar to pour a drink with shaking hands.

***

Unbeknownst to either of them, a few stray teardrops slip from closed obsidian eyes and stain the pillows beneath the still form in the bedroom.

 

Chapter 6

Summary:

Michael hears the fight between Lucifer and Chloe, and he seizes an opportunity.

"This isn't over, Lucifer."

Michael hears Chloe spit out the final words of her fight with Lucifer. Tears are leaking from his tightly closed eyes.

He heard every word of the argument, and he sides with Chloe. “He deserves to die. He deserves the worst," she had said. I do. She was ready to kill me. Why didn’t you let her kill me, brother?

He’s in Lucifer’s bed now. He faintly remembers Raphael’s voice and touch. It felt like delirium, a fever dream, but he thinks now it was real. His back feels different, still painful, the absence of his wings still a soul-deep emptiness…but the acute, ever-intensifying agony has retreated.

The stumps are gone. The last remnant of evidence that he was once an angel removed. Pain traded for utter loss.

She was ready to shoot me. You could have just let her shoot me.

Michael hears the clinking of glass at the bar. Lucifer drinking away his pain, as usual. But what pain, exactly? His pain of becoming God, of having Michael at his mercy?  Maybe he’s drinking in celebration. Celebrating that he didn’t let Chloe shoot, so he still has Michael here to punish.

Michael bites back a sob, not wanting to reveal he’s awake. The pillow he rests on is soaked with tears.

A cool breeze chills the tracks of tears on his cheeks, and he opens his eyes in sudden realization. The bedroom has a door to the balcony, and that door is slightly open to let in the cool night air.

He’s moving before he even fully forms the intent.  Crawling, grabbing the doorframe to pull himself to shaky feet, just a couple staggering steps to the railing…

…and over.

The moment of freefall is freedom, the last sensation of flight he will ever know.

Until the flash of white, and arms around him, and he is back on the balcony, collapsing in a tangle of limbs. I failed again.

Michael sobs, sobs that wrack his entire body. “Why don’t you just let me die already, Sam?” he whispers. Any self-control he ever had is gone, he cries helplessly, a mess of tears and snot, limp and hopeless in his brother’s shaking grip.

“No, no, no,” Lucifer is saying over and over. “You can’t die, Brother. You can't.”

 Michael turns his bleak eyes toward his twin’s, then lets his head fall back, eyes closing.

“Is this just a longer form of torture?” he whispers desolately. “You aren’t done hurting me yet?”

Lucifer doesn't reply. Instead he just presses his lips to his twin's forehead.

Chapter 7

Summary:

Lucifer tries to convince Michael he wants to help him.

"Mi, c'mon now, brother." Lucifer tries to pull his brother onto his feet after spending Dad-knows how many minutes sitting on the balcony.

The angel stays firmly seated on the balcony floor, unwilling or perhaps unable to move a muscle.

"Mi." Lucifer kneels down at his eye level.  “You have to come inside,” he coaxes. "You'll…you’ll catch a cold." He sounds slightly ridiculous, but he can’t think of what else to say.  He’s not even sure that Michael is mentally there with him.

I can’t just leave him out here. He might try to jump again. Not daring to risk leaving Michael unattended, he picks him up, bridal-style, and carries him to the bed. He sets him down to sit on the edge of the bed as gently as possible, and steps back.

"You hungry? I could order you some takeout." Not getting any response from his brother, Lucifer tries again. "Can I cook you something? Soup, pizza, some porridge maybe?  Anything that sounds good to you?" 

"Why are you doing this?" Michael finally whispers. "Why don't you let me end it already? Please." Teardrops roll down his cheeks, but he makes no effort to wipe them away.

"Mi, I—” Lucifer starts, but Michael isn’t ready to hear anything. He lays down on the bed and immediately realizes his mistake.

"UGHHHHHH" He unwittingly put too much pressure on the still-raw wounds, and groans with the flare of renewed pain.

"Mi, oh dear ME—" Lucifer rushes to his bedside to hold Michael close, half expecting Michael to just pull away. But he doesn’t pull back; instead he claws Lucifer's suit so hard Lucifer hears the fabric tear.

"Brother, I’ll give you some painkillers but you have to eat something first." He finally just calls down to his staff to bring some soup and toast for Michael from downstairs.

When the food arrives, Lucifer sits next to Michael, holding the bowl of soup on his knees.  "Eat, brother," he pleads, holding a spoonful of chicken broth to Michael's lips.

"Is it poisoned?"

Lucifer sighs and puts the spoon in his own mouth. "Brother, I'm trying to help you.  Please let me help you."

Michael allows Lucifer to feed him three spoonfuls of soup, before lying down—on his stomach this time—too exhausted to carry on.

Lucifer goes to get painkillers for Michael, but by the time he returns Michael is already in deep slumber.

 

Chapter 8

Summary:

Michael has a visitor.

After Lucifer finishes forcing Michael to eat a little, Michael sleeps.  He half wakes once when Lucifer is leaning close. 

“Shhh, go back to sleep,” Lucifer soothes him.  “I’m popping downstairs for a bit, be right back.”

Michael lays on the bed, still half-asleep. The pain is still intense and he floats in an unhappy delirium, drifting in and out of awareness, frequently forgetting where he is. Who was feeding me soup? 

The elevator doors open. Michael lifts his head and sees a blurry figure walking in. It’s a tall, dark-skinned man. Could it be..?

"Father—" Michael pushes himself off the bed and stumbles towards him. He’s here to take me home! "Father!"

A resounding punch sends him flying across the room.  Michael lands on the floor with a heavy THUD and shrieks with both pain and shock.

"You..!" The figure takes position above him and kicks him repeatedly in the chest and head. "Why don't you die already? You were supposed to die!''

KICK
KICK
KICK

Michael wails with every impact, hurt and terrified.

"HAVEN'T YOU DONE ENOUGH DAMAGE ALREADY, MICHAEL?"

Why is Father so angry with me? Michael thinks as he tries weakly to shield himself from the blows. What did I do?

"Father, I'm sorry. Please..." he whimpers.  He tries desperately to get on his knees, to bow properly in submission for whatever he’s done, but he can’t get off the ground with all the kicks. Every time he gets an arm or leg underneath to lift himself, the limb is viciously kicked out from under him.

"DIE!"

He stops trying to get up. "Father, Dad, I'm sorry, I’m sorry,” he sobs. “Please, I want to go home. I want Mom. I want Mom!”  He remembers vaguely that their Mother is gone. He begs and pleads through the repeated blows raining down on him, trying to cover his head with his arms.

I don’t know what I did… he despairs. Dad, please.

"Amenadiel?!!!"

Lucifer’s shocked voice booms through the penthouse.

“Get the FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!”

Chapter 9

Summary:

Lucifer makes his feelings very clear to Amenadiel.

"AMENADIEL!" Lucifer screams at the sight of the older angel mercilessly stomping on the head of the younger one.  It’s like a horrifying twist on the many images humans had made of Michael defeating Lucifer, always with the angel pinning the head of his victim to the ground. 

Never this cruelly…never…

Racing to his twin's rescue, Lucifer pushes Amenadiel away with all his strength, sending him staggering for a couple of steps, and hauls Michael up to sit on his leather couch.

The bandages are torn and dirty from the marks of Amenadiel’s shoes, there are clearly multiple new injuries on his arms and torso and his face is bruised and swollen.  Tears stand in Lucifer’s eyes as he gently assesses the damage.

"Hngh hngh…" Michael struggles to speak.  Lucifer can’t tell if the sounds are so garbled from the swelling of Michael's lips, or if he is incoherent from the trauma of the sudden assault.

"Luci, if you aren't going to kill him, why don't we send him to hell already? A few eons of getting it from the demons would fix him just fine."

"Amenadiel," Lucifer breathes in sharply, not taking his eye off him. A sudden vivid image of the demons having their way with Amenadiel burns behind his eyes.  He swallows the furious desire in that image. "How did you even know Michael is here with me?"

"Chloe told me."

"Oh, Brother..!"

"She is a miracle, made to order by our Father for you. You two had finally become what you were supposed to be! He killed her and you died to save her! You cannot abandon her for…for this…" He points towards Michael as if Michael is some abhorrent creature tainting their divine presence.  Like they had all pointed at Lucifer after his failed rebellion.  Amenadiel beat me then, when I was the despised one.

Lucifer doesn’t dignify Amenadiel’s words with an answer. Instead, he retrieves some ice from his fridge to treat the new injuries, never letting his attention leave Amenadiel for a moment. He will not get any opportunity to get near Michael again.

Lucifer presses an ice pack against an outline of Amenadiel’s shoe, already deep purple-black, that marks Michael’s cheek and neck.  Michael gasps and bites his lips, hard enough to draw more blood from his already bloody and swollen mouth.

"I know it hurts, brother. The ice will help with the swelling."

Michael doesn’t resist. Lucifer looks at him, and for the first time he thinks he might see…acceptance?  Permission to help?  Something, finally, that is not pure animal fear and pain and need to flee.  He hopes he’s not just imagining it.

Turning towards Amenadiel, Lucifer deliberately flashes hellfire in his eyes—it’s all he can do to not release his entire Devil face right now—and  growls "Michael is under my protection. If you attempt to harm him, this won't end well for you." He pauses, then adds, "or anyone around you."

With a flash of wings and a trailing stink of fear and fury, the Eldest is gone.

Chapter 10

Summary:

The twins have another visitor. A friendly one, perhaps?

Lucifer hasn't visited work and Chloe is being awfully quiet about him. Whatever the heck happened between Deckerstar is eating Ella alive.  Finally, she decides she needs to find out what’s up.  If Chloe won’t talk, maybe Lucifer will.

She had never been up to Lucifer’s penthouse.  She boards the elevator—no code? no card key?—and takes it to the top. The doors open to reveal an opulent but oddly doorless open-plan penthouse. Ella steps out, quiet in her sneaker-clad feet.  She can see into the bedroom from the entryway.  Lucifer is either AWFULLY secure or has a serious exhibition kink. 

"LUCIFER!” she yells, “LUCIFER, you there bud?"  Better to advertise her arrival in case anything private is going on in there.

Ella sees a tall male figure lying on the bed (thankfully alone, else it would've been so awkward).

"Lucifer, you okay?"

"Mmngh." He moans in pain; Ella can now make out bruises of all shapes and sizes blooming on smooth alabaster skin. Swelling distorts his handsome features. On his naked back she sees two gigantic mysterious wounds.

"Lucifer, who did this to you?" Ella exclaims in horror.

*************************

Lucifer had left Michael alone to stock up on fresh bandages and soft foods for him. He should have just ordered them to be delivered, because he is immediately worried that Michael could be attacked again, so he hurries.

Lucifer steps into the penthouse and becomes instantly alert. He senses the presence of another being in his living quarters before he even sees the shadow of someone standing over Michael. Rage courses through him.

"HRAGHHHH!" He gives an inarticulate, inhuman roar as his usual features crumple and burn to reveal his devilish form. His enormous bat-like wings unfurl as he rushes to his brother.

"Who dares?" he bellows.

Ella squeaks and jumps in shock. Lucifer stumbles to a halt, almost as shocked to see the tiny forensic scientist in his home as she must be to see the Devil himself.

***

Ella clasps her hands, mustering all her courage, and prays. "Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil; May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; And do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls. Amen."

The Devilish creature just stares at her, mouth open, as she prays.

When her prayer ends, Ella sees motion from the figure on the bed.  “Lucifer!” she says urgently.

"Who's it…what..?" he groans, seeming to have woken up.

"No one, brother, just sleep. Miss Lopez, a moment please?"

Ella turns in disbelief as Lucifer’s voice comes from behind her.  The burnt, twisted features she saw a moment ago have melted into confusing familiarity as ‘Lucifer’ moves past her, sits on the bed, and consoles ‘Lucifer.’ Lucifer speaks softly and seems to lull the Lucifer on the bed to sleep.

Nothing is making sense to Ella.  "Explain now," she demands.

 

Chapter 11

Summary:

Lucifer explains the situation to Ella.

"Miss Lopez, I…?"  Lucifer hesitates, unsure where to even begin.

Ella’s expression is grave as she clutches her tiny crucifix pendant for dear life. "What did you do to Lucifer? What did you do to my friend?" she demands.

"Miss Lopez, I assure you that I am Lucifer. Satan. The Archangel formerly known as Samael who was cast out of Heaven to rule Hell."

Ella stares suspiciously.  "Who is he then? The one injured and sleeping on the bed?  Who looks exactly like you?"

Lucifer takes a deep breath. He pours himself a whisky, then a tequila for Ella. He hands Ella her drink and gestures for her to sit the bar with him, leaving both bottles ready on the bar. 

“For this to make sense, Miss Lopez, I may have to go back a bit.”  He takes a swallow of his drink and begins narrating the tale leading up to the presence of his twin in the penthouse, trying to summarize, with difficulty. When he finally finishes the highlights version of the story, the two liquor bottles are much lighter than when he began, and Ella stares at him with her mouth hanging open.

Lucifer waits.

"They knew?"

"Yes."

"Amenadiel is an angel?"

"Yes."

"Papa Morningstar is ACTUALLY GOD?"

"Yes..." Well, he was, Lucifer thinks, but let's not go into that right now.

"This doppelganger of yours is Saint Michael?"

"He's just Michael, definitely not a saint. We are identical twins. I truly don't know how everyone missed it throughout history."

Ella takes a deep breath. She fixes Lucifer with a gaze that pins him in place as she removes her shoe. She lunges toward Lucifer starts hitting him repeated and yelling in Spanish.

“¡Confié en ti! ¡Eres mi amigo! ¿No confías en mí?

"Miss Lopez," Lucifer tries to say, flinching from the shoe attacks but not really defending himself.

"Why would you not tell me? ¿Todo el mundo sabe? Even Linda?"

Unexpected motion catches their attention.  The commotion clearly woke Michael up and he stands in the wide opening to the bedroom. He leans against the wall, shaking, but he is standing. 

A small smile playing on his lips, he says, "You did not need to pray to me at all, Ella. It’s clear that you can handle Satan just fine on your own."

Lucifer stares at Michael, amazed and relieved he is standing on his own, and somehow simultaneously annoyed and joyful that his smart-ass brother isn’t lost forever. He has just been lurking beneath the surface, and now finally is coming back.

Notes:

What Ella says in Spanish:

"I trusted you! You are my friend! Don’t you trust me?

"Everyone knows?"

Chapter 12

Summary:

Michael hears the conversation between Ella and Lucifer.

Michael isn’t even sure how Ella’s prayer had reached him.  His mind has been filled with only vague buzzing and his own dark thoughts for some time now. But her prayer pushed through his stupor and woke him. Woke him into confusion, and Lucifer quickly soothed him back into sleep…but the prayer still echoed. So when he wakes again a bit later, he hears the same voice that was in his head speaking with Lucifer.

He listens now, realizes Lucifer is narrating the entire fucked-up path that led them to this place and time. Michael expects the conversation to be a litany of all of his terrible crimes and failures, and of course they are all there, since Lucifer doesn’t lie.

But what surprises Michael is that the narrative is peppered with sympathy, and with Lucifer’s acknowledgements of his own failures. ‘If only I had known he felt that way…’ Lucifer says many times, or ‘I wish I had never…’

Does he actually care?  It seems impossible to believe. Lucifer’s devastation when Michael killed Chloe, his cruelty in taking Michael’s wings with the flaming sword…how could there be any forgiveness or mercy there?

Lucifer finishes his story, stopping at the point he brought Michael to the penthouse. Rather than describing the events since (Chloe and Amenadiel both tried to kill me—Amenadiel? Why?) Lucifer concludes with a statement that shocks Michael enough to lift his head.

“So now he is here, and I’ve hurt him so badly I don’t know what to do. He’ll never forgive me, but I have to do what I can to help him heal. I…just want my favorite brother back.”

More impossible words. It’s been eons since they were even civil to each other. It’s hard to even remember there was a time when they were happy, best friends, best brothers, creating the universe. But he doesn’t lie. 

There is a pause, and Ella starts asking questions. Then, suddenly, she is yelling in Spanish and there are sounds he recognizes from the time he was on the receiving end.  Ella is attacking Lucifer with a shoe.

It hurts to stand, pulling on all his unhealed injuries, but Michael drags himself to his feet.  He is dizzy, weak, nauseated…but he is standing on his own, only slightly leaning against the wall. Pathetic as the accomplishment is, Michael feels just the tiniest bit of pride that he has managed it.

He takes in the amazing scene of God-elect cringing before the assault of a furious, tiny Latina armed with a sneaker. For the first time in what seems like forever, he feels the slightest lift to his spirits. They suddenly notice him and stare.

Feeling himself smile just a bit, Michael says, "You did not need to pray to me at all, Ella. It’s clear that you can handle Satan just fine on your own."

Ella laughs, actually laughs.  Lucifer stands there looking gobsmacked.

Michael pushes his luck and steps forward. Dizziness overwhelms him and he feels himself falling forward. He tries to hold on to consciousness even if he can’t find any way to catch his fall.

So he is able to hear three things before he hits the floor and the world disappears again.

The sound of wings from the balcony.

Lucifer’s growl, along with a blast of heat suggesting he is back in Devil form.

Ella’s voice, saying “¿Otra? ¿Quién es ella?”

He falls into darkness before he can hear the answer.

Notes:

(Another one? Who is she?)

Chapter 13

There is a frozen instant in which the four beings in the penthouse make a very strange tableau: a scarred, angry Devil looms with leathery wings spread wide, an injured archangel sprawls insensate on the marble floor, a petite archangel with a mane of curly hair stands with a look of nervous determination, and a very astonished human wearing a ‘Let's taco about it’ T shirt takes in the scene in disbelief.

"My Liege."  Gabriel kneels down in front of Lucifer.  She wants to rush to Michael, but she doesn’t dare move until God-elect in Devil form allows it.

"STATE YOUR PURPOSE,” Lucifer thunders, but even as he speaks, he is shifting to his usual form and moving to crouch beside his twin.  His wings are still out, white and bladed now. 

"I'm here to see my brother,” Gabriel states firmly.  Lucifer is no less terrifying in his angelic form with his primaries sharped and his wings raised aggressively, but Gabriel holds her head high.

Michael stirs slightly.  Lucifer lifts him in his arms and carries him to the couch, setting him down with seeming care before stepping aside, closer to the human woman.

"Hey, Gab," Michael utters weakly from the couch.

At his words, Gabriel forgets waiting for permission and rushes to her favorite brother. She hugs him, tightly enough to share her warmth but careful to avoid the numerous wounds scattered over his body.

“What are all these wounds, brother? Did he hurt you again?"  The question is accompanied by a sharp glance toward Lucifer.

"No. No,” Michael reassures her.  “It was Amenadiel. Not Lucifer. Lucifer…is taking care of me."

Gabriel looks in surprise toward God-elect (Amenadiel did this to Mike?), just as the human—Ella, she’s pretty sure—elbows Lucifer and asks "Gab, as in..?"

"Yes, this is our sister, Gabriel."

"Saint Gabriel is NOT A GUY?" The little human looks as though she has received too much mind-boggling information for a single day.

Gabriel looks at the human impatiently. "Of course not. Why would you think that?  Do I look like a guy?"  Never mind that she may have been one once, her self-actualized form is clearly female.

"Errrr. Never mind I should leave you and your hermanos alone." Ella skips hastily to the elevator. Lucifer lifts a hand in farewell and in a moment the human is gone.

Lucifer turns back and sighs. "Gabriel, why are you here?"

"Raphael told me that he was in a lot of pain,” Gabriel answers, looking sadly at Michael, who returns an affectionate smile.

“Brother," she addresses Lucifer, then pauses. "My liege, if I may make a suggestion?"

Lucifer nods and she continues. "Maybe it would be best for you to keep him hidden somewhere less obvious?  Less…unlocked and wide open?  The demons and some of our siblings are not taking this too well, and if Amenadiel actually, actually…” She trails off, still struggling to process that their proper, loyal eldest brother would do this to Michael when he was already so hurt. She goes on in moment.  “They might come after him, or Meni might return."

"Gab, don't bother him. It's fine," Michael protests weakly.

But Lucifer nods. "You're right,” he affirms. “Thank you, Gabriel, it is good advice." He smiles at her, and Gabriel feels a wash of relief that he is taking her seriously—and that Raphael’s worry that Lucifer would harm Michael further is clearly wrong.  Even without Michael saying so, the way Lucifer had crouched protectively over Michael had been unmistakable.  Somehow, the twins…seem to care about each other again.

Gabriel presses a kiss to Michael's forehead. "I love you, brother. I always will."  With a flutter of soft pigeon wings, she is gone.

***

Lucifer looks at Michael, who looks back with a slightly dazed expression.  “Where to now, then?” Lucifer asks.  “I have several lovely properties we could consider. Would you prefer something more tropical, or maybe something in the mountains?”

Chapter 14

Summary:

Maze comes to the penthouse.
Lucifer and Michael go to a remote hiding place.

They are almost ready to leave when Maze pops out of the elevator. Lucifer spreads his wings in reflexive defense, automatically moving to place himself between the entryway and the couch where Michael is resting. He doesn’t switch to his Devil form, perhaps because the part of him that instantly recognizes Maze reins in some of his reaction.

Even with part of his brain repeating, It’s Maze, relax, Lucifer keeps his wings out, primaries sharp and poised.  The last time Maze had seen Michael was at the end of the Coliseum battle; for all he knows, she might attack Michael on sight.

She doesn’t. Maze stands still, hands out to show they are empty of blades. “Lucifer?” she says cautiously.

Still buzzing with adrenaline, Lucifer folds his wings but keeps them unfurled. “Maze,” he says. “Have you…do you…?” He closes his mouth firmly on his incoherent questioning.

Maze looks at Michael, visible now that Lucifer has closed his wings. Lucifer follows her gaze, seeing Michael on the couch with his eyes closed, but his head cocked, listening. 

“It’s true, then,” Maze says, her expression unreadable. “You are…taking care of Michael.”

“Yes.” Lucifer’s reply has no hesitation, brooks no argument. 

“Good,” Maze says unexpectedly, with a shrug.  “He’s an asshole, but he would have been my kind of asshole if he hadn’t been fucking with you.  But if you want to keep him…you break it, you buy it, right?”

Lucifer stares at Maze, who is wearing an amused smirk. He catches a slight movement and sees Michael is now turned slightly in his seat, looking at Maze.  A ghost of a smile flickers across his features. 

“I always said I hated you the least,” Michael responds, his voice still strained and weak, but containing a wry edge that is very Michael.

Lucifer takes a deep breath. He trusts Maze. He can’t help it. No matter how many times she may have technically betrayed him, she always comes back around. She had protected him in Hell for too many millennia for a handful of betrayals to erase.

“Both Amenadiel and the Detective have tried to kill Michael since I brought him here,” he tells her bluntly. “I am taking Michael someplace remote.  You…can you keep an eye on things here?” He makes it a request, not a command.

Maze raises her eyebrow at the information, but just nods. “Sure. Keep in touch so I don’t have to track you down if I have any news.”

***

Michael tries to not groan out loud with the pain as Lucifer lands and sets him down on the deck of a rambling house somewhere in the mountains.  Michael has no idea where they are—he was half conscious most of the way—and he’s sure he would be impressed by the view if he didn’t feel like shit.  The house is all decks and windows and there are no other buildings in sight, just looming mountains with forested lower flanks and snowy tops. 

Lucifer unlocks a sliding door (or makes the lock open for him, since no key is employed) and Michael goes inside under his own power.  He would feel prouder about that if he didn’t then immediately stumble and fall to his knees once inside. He closes his eyes against the start of tears. It is so hard to feel so weak all the time, maybe even worse than the pain. 

Lucifer doesn’t comment, just helps Michael to his feet and leads him to a bedroom with attached bath.  “I’ll see what we have in the way of food stocked here,” he says.  “I can’t promise anything too interesting.  I’ll go out for supplies later.”

Michael falls onto the bed as Lucifer leaves.

He wakes an unknown amount of time later. Not too long, given the angle of the sun hasn’t changed too much. Unless it’s been some multiple of 24 hours, but he feels like he’s past that level of exhaustion at least.

A glass of water and a plate with dried fruits, cured meats and other items, rest on the bedside table. Of course fancy charcuterie falls under the ‘nothing too interesting’ category for his brother.

Michael drinks the water and is contemplating the food when he hears the sound of a piano from elsewhere in the house. He follows the sound, moving quietly.  He discovers Lucifer in a room beyond the open kitchen/dining/living area. The room is dominated by the piano in its center. Lucifer plays with his back toward Michael. The glass doors are open wide to yet another deck.

Michael stands quietly, listening. He doesn’t recognize the piece but suspects it is an original composition. It strikes him how much he missed his brother’s music over the years. He remembers his all-to-recent fight with Lucifer, when he banged carelessly on the piano in Lux, intentionally trying to provoke his twin. With great success; Lucifer had attacked him furiously for it. And there had been their fight in the penthouse amidst the wreckage of the piano there, but Maze gets credit for that destruction.

Michael startles when Lucifer turns to look at him, still playing. The images of their fights in his mind, Michael ducks his head and starts to back out of the room.

“Join me?” Lucifer asks softly, and Michael is brought up short. He looks at his brother. Lucifer is gazing back, one hand drawing out quiet notes. Lucifer slides to the right, nodding to the space he has opened on the bench. “Please?”

Michael hesitates, then comes forward, easing himself carefully onto the bench. He lifts his hands to the keys and pauses, struggling to recall music he had once played well enough, though never as well as Lucifer. Finally, he begins to play a Bach piece, clumsy at first but smoother as his hands remember. Lucifer joins him, adding quiet variations while leaving the main theme to Michael.

They play to the end. Michael glances at Lucifer after the final notes fade, embarrassed by what was surely a poor performance by Lucifer’s standards, but nonetheless feeling calmer than he has for a long time.

To Michael’s amazement, Lucifer’s cheeks are wet with tears and he is smiling.

“Thank you, Michael,” Lucifer says.  “You play beautifully.”

Chapter 15

Summary:

The twins get to the heart of the issue: God's lousy parenting.

They finish the dinner Lucifer has made from the pantry of stable foodstuffs. It is simple pasta but Lucifer has made the sauce interesting and naturally cooked the pasta perfectly. It was the best he could do with what he had available

"Want to sit on the deck for a while?" Lucifer asks, wiping his face with a linen napkin.

Michael nods in approval.

Lucifer helps his twin settle on the ridiculously oversized chaise on the deck, easily big enough for two people and able to accommodate four if they were friendly enough—as his prior guests usually were.

Covering themselves with a blanket, they silently watch the setting sun pour liquid gold over the peaks.

It is not until the sky has melted from shimmering gold into star-studded inky blackness that either of them speaks. The air is cold and the brothers cuddle together instinctively under the blanket. Lucifer hopes Michael is starting to relax. Getting him to play the piano had been a breakthrough, but he had been taciturn since then.

"Sam," Michael whispers, finally breaking the silence.

"Yes brother?"

"It wasn't Father who came to visit me?" Michael’s voice is small, bereft.

"No." Lucifer blinks away the tears springing in his eyes at his brother's hopelessness, at the way he swings into an almost child-like mental state. He presses a kiss in Michael's hair, heart breaking at the vision of his mighty brother seeming so small.

"Is He," Michael swallows thickly, "is He gone?"

Lucifer doesn’t answer him immediately. He fears what Michael will ask.

"Sam."

Lucifer runs his palms over his brother's hair, attempting to soothe his brother’s obvious mounting unease.

"Sam. He told you goodbye?"

"Yes."

"Tell me how it happened. Please."

Lucifer sighs. "Mum came here from her new Universe. She and Dad went to start a new family. To start everything afresh."

Michael seems unable to speak. Emotions flit across his face as he processes Lucifer’s words.

Finally, in a choked voice he asks, "Mother was here?"

Lucifer nods. "They told us that They loved us and were very proud of us, of who we have become. And They left. They…They won't come back again."

"They said they loved you?" Michael's eyes were red-rimmed. "You said ‘us.’ You and who?"

Lucifer remains silent, not wanting to answer. His twin sits upright, trying to free himself from the blanket that wraps them close.

"You and WHO?"

"Amenadiel." Lucifer hates saying it, now after all that has happened. He hates that Amenadiel got their parents' love and praise, and Michael did not.

Michael buries his scarred face in his hands, sobbing silently.

"They are omniscient! Didn't They know I-" Michael’s voice cuts off, he can’t complete the sentence. He looks at Lucifer, anguished.

"I did everything They ever wanted. Why didn’t They love me? Why? What did I do that was so wrong?"

Michael drags himself off the chaise, still tangled in the blanket. He trips, falling face first onto the wood deck. “Damn it!” He is furious and crying at the same time.

"Michael!" Lucifer rushes to his side, alarmed at the outburst.

Michael is kneeling on the deck, fists clenched. "I don't even remember Mom's love anymore. She left Heaven to see you in Hell and stayed there. She forgot about us. She forgot about me."

"No, Dad sent Mum to Hell, I never even saw Her there," Lucifer tries in vain to explain, to pacify him.  “She wanted to see all Her children, She just…couldn’t.”

Michael’s shakes his head. "Y'know what was the last thing Father told me? That He wanted me gone from earth, away from Him and His family.” His voice is bitter and raw. “The last time I ever saw Him, He sent me away so he could be with you and…and Amenadiel.” 

Michael tries to cling to the anger but the grief wins out and he sobs again. Lucifer draws his injured twin close to him, not knowing what to say. “It’s all right, brother,” he says, uselessly.

Michael takes ragged breaths, choking back his sobs. He lifts his eyes to Lucifer. "Why doesn't He love me, Sam? Why didn’t He ever love me?"

Notes:

Maze who? Angstaholic and Naagin are the best torturers.

Chapter 16

Summary:

Michael doesn't think he is worth helping.

Lucifer can’t answer Michael’s questions. How can he know if Father ever loved Michael? What Father might have said to him if he had been there for the goodbye? For that matter, can I even be sure Father’s last words to me were true? Or do I just want him to have loved us so much I will believe it no matter what?

Unable to console Michael any further, Lucifer sits in the darkness with his brother in his arms for what feels like an eternity. The only sounds in the atmosphere are an unknown bird—some kind of owl, perhaps?—calling into the night, and Michael's low, ragged sobs.

"Brother, come on," he finally says, picking Michael up in his arms bridal style. He feels far too light. "Let's get you into bed."

Lucifer sets his brother down gently on the bed, ensuring his head rests on a soft pillow. He then hesitates for just a moment, then climbs under the covers with him. Michael is too exhausted to resist the onslaught of affection he is receiving from his twin.

Lucifer draws Michael close to his chest, careful to not irritate his wounds further. Michael is quiet, and Lucifer hopes he will fall asleep easily.

Abruptly, Michael’s body tenses, pushing Lucifer away. "Why are you like this, Sam?" Michael rasps out suddenly, angrily. "Why did you have to cut open my face? Father only kept me around because I reminded Him of His Lightbringer. He abandoned me after you ruined my face. Why do you have to take away everything I love?"

Lucifer has no answer to this. What can he possibly say?  He used the demon dagger on the face identical to his to prevent further identity theft. Making sure Michael could no longer impersonate him was justified. Accomplishing that by forcing Michael to live forever after with a terrible scar…that was not.  He knows Michael is not in the correct headspace to either comprehend Lucifer’s motivation for the act, nor to accept any apology for it. He hesitates too long, grasping for words, when Michael speaks again. The anger is now subsiding under despair.

"Why didn't you kill me?” Michael demands mournfully. “What's the point of this life? I have nothing to live for. No one to live for. I have always been an extra in your story. A rough draft preceding the perfect Lightbringer. Born a second before you and behind ever since.  No one wants me. Why bother trying?" His voice is rising throughout the litany of hurts. Then he cuts himself off and seems to deflate. He sighs. "Nobody wants me anywhere near them, Sam. Just end my life here and burn my useless body. No one will get to know how I met my end. Not that they would ever want to."

"But Mi, that’s not true! What about Gabriel and Raphael? They love you. They were so worried about you! I could call them here…?" Lucifer almost begins to pray but Michael cuts him off.

"No! Associating with me now will only increase their enemies. What if Amenadiel learns they tried to help me? And Sam, you have an entire new chapter in your life waiting for you. You’re supposed to be God! No point lugging a pathetic broken loser like me around with you."  

Helping you is my new chapter, Lucifer thinks, but he doesn’t speak. Michael isn’t listening anyway. Lucifer reaches out and pulls his brother close again. Michael doesn’t resist.

Neither brother sleeps much this night. One softly cries his heart out in the other's arms and the other listens helplessly.

 

 

Chapter 17

Summary:

Michael and Lucifer's secret place is a little less secret. Fortunately the visitors are friendly.

Michael wakes up in the early hours—past 3 AM by the clock on the bedside table—to see his brother dozing peacefully with his arm around Michael’s torso, holding him in an embrace. Apparently they both fell asleep at last.

He can make out his twin's features in the dim light, identical to his own but unblemished. He feels his chest clench from feelings of sorrow, rage and helplessness rolling into a confusing mixture.

Disentangling himself from his brother’s grip without waking him, Michael wobbles to the deck outside the bedroom to stare up at the night sky. He feels hopeless. The pain in his body, the anguish in his mind and the constant feeling of weightlessness on his back make him want to launch himself from the edge of the deck. But that won't be of any use.  Even though the house is high in the mountains, it is set in a wide clearing, not in a cliff face.  Launching himself off a ground floor deck would just lead to more humiliation, not the peaceful nothingness he longs for.

He feels so weak and lightheaded. He presses his hands together and kneels down, groaning in the process.

Michael prays. "Hey Gabby, this is Mike. I, uh…" He is struggling to keep himself upright and to hide the hurt from his mental voice. "I need your help. Can you fetch me Rae Rae's blade? I promise I won't hurt any of my siblings. I..."

He trails off before he can finish the prayer and the last thing he hears is his head hitting the deck and the footsteps of his brother rushing towards him.

---

Gabriel is polishing her horn in her Nest when she hears the familiar voice in her head. "Hey Gabby, this is Mike. I, uh....... I need your help. Can you fetch me Rae Rae's blade? I promise I won't hurt any of my siblings. I..."

Glad to hear her brother's voice but concerned about the amount of hurt encased in it, she drops her instrument and rushes out to find her healer sibling.

"What would he need Azrael's blade for?" Gabriel rushes into Raphael's infirmary yelling, and startles poor Raph and Rae Rae in the process.  Raphael appears to be patching up some scrapes on their younger sister’s wings.

"Whatever it is guys, I'm worried about both Lu and Mike," the angel of Death pipes up. "I'll come with you to see what's up with the terrible two."

Raphael nods silently. He had been keeping a close watch on the twins, and the signs of despair and self-sabotage in Michael had not escaped the experienced healer's eyes. He has been worried since they disappeared from the penthouse.

“You know where they are now?” Raphael asks Gabriel.

“Definitely,” Gabriel replies. “I got a clear location when he prayed.”

Rae Rae looks at them both with a surprised expression. “Guys, if you wanted to find them, you could have just asked me. I always know where all of you are.” 

---

 

Three angels land on the deck of the secluded cottage in the mountains. There are doors open to a bedroom, where they can see a male figure lying on the bed and an identical one stirring a bowl vigorously nearby.

Lucifer looks up in surprise. "What are you doing here?" he whispers urgently. "How did you even find us?"

"Michael prayed to me,” Gabriel explains. “Lucifer, tell us if you don't want him here. I'll take him away."

"Why wouldn’t I want him here?” Lucifer exclaims. “It’s just…he had another breakdown last night. He…" Lucifer doesn’t finish the sentence as he notices his brother stirring in the little pile of pillows he built after his brother collapsed on the deck last night.

Michael pushes himself up on his elbows. "Gabby, Raph…" he begins.  He is caught unawares when two sets of limbs grasp him, gently pressing him back onto the fluffy surface. "Is he hurting you, brother?" the curly-haired angel whispers in her brother's ear, while Raphael scans him to check for new injuries.

"Lu, I'm really worried about you guys." Rae Rae, looking like a dorky teenager as always, slides towards Lucifer. Her brother is vigorously stirring a giant bowl of pancake batter, almost unconsciously, as he stares at the scene in front of him. 

"Gabby told me that Mike was looking for my blade again. I want you to be safe, brother.  Both of you."

*CLANG*

The bowl drops from Lucifer’s hand as he realizes with a wave of horror exactly why his twin must want that blade.

Notes:

A broody healer, a dork and a chatterbox walk into a mountain retreat...

Chapter 18

Summary:

Michael despairs and re-aggravates his wounds.

Oblivious to the dropped bowl, the batter splattered everywhere, Lucifer rushes toward Michael. "Brother," he cries in a horrified voice, understanding that Michael wants to end himself forever. Michael doesn’t know why he would sound so upset given how recently they were both ready to end each other anyway.

Lucifer pushes in between Gabriel and Raphael, trying to jam himself into the cuddle-pile the three archangels have ended up in on the plush bedding. It is a mistake.

"NO NO JUST LEAVE ME" Michael screams as Lucifer comes close, trying to get himself away from his brother.

"Mi, Mi, listen to me!" Lucifer pleads, reaching for him.

Michael tries his best to drag himself out of the tangle of limbs now that Lucifer is a part of it. His eyes are unseeing, expression panicked.

Lucifer can practically hear his twin's thoughts. He doesn’t want anything more to do with me, his monstrous twin who steals away everything from him…his face, his wings, his divinity, his parents, his future.

"You'll hurt yourself, Michael. Just stop, please!" Gabriel begs him, but in vain.

Michael fights like a wild animal. The tight bandages come loose in the struggle and blood starts flowing freely from the wounds, nearly as fresh as the day they were bestowed upon him.

Michael cries, his desperate burst of strength giving out, broken sobs wracking his frame as he stops struggling and grips the white sheets, rapidly turning red with his fresh blood.

"Just go, please, all of you," he whispers. "Just let me be."

"Brother, a word please." Raphael urgently pulls Lucifer aside. Gabriel stays put, refusing to leave her favorite sibling's side.

"We need to cauterize his wound,” Raphael says. “He might bleed out otherwise. Do you, by any chance, have celestial or demon steel?"

Lucifer wordlessly produces two of Maze's trusty knives from his pocket.

“I will prepare these,” Raphael says. “You and Gabriel…ready him.”

When Raphael returns with the karambits glowing orange, Lucifer and Gabriel are ready.

Lucifer kneels and places his folded belt in his brother's mouth and gestures to Gabriel to pin his arms down. Michael lies still, no will left in him to resist.

Raphael takes the Hell-forged steel blades, heated to painful perfection, and presses both down simultaneously on the reopened amputation wounds on his back.  

Michael lets out a strangled scream, biting through the leather of the belt.  His body jerks twice involuntarily before he goes limp.

Chapter 19

Summary:

Raphael convinces Lucifer to give Michael a little space.
Lucifer confronts Amenadiel.

“Lucifer. You should go back. You can’t just disappear when you are God-elect.”

Lucifer barely hears Raphael. He is sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Michael’s hand. Michael has been unconscious since they cauterized his wounds… an hour ago? More? Lucifer can’t remember. Gabriel is curled up next to Michael on the other side of the bed.  She is unnaturally quiet, eyes big and sad as she presses against her favorite brother.

“Lucifer.” Raphael’s insistent voice finally registers. “You should go.”

“I can’t,” Lucifer protests, not taking his eyes off Michael. “I need to be here…”

“No.” Raphael’s sharp reply startles Lucifer into looking at him. The gentle healer looks angry and impatient.

“Raphael…” Lucifer begins but trails off at his brother’s expression. Raphael was furious and fearful when Lucifer had first called him to remove the stumps of Michael’s wings. He seems less distrustful now, less like he thinks Lucifer plans to start smiting anyone who crosses him now that he is God-elect. But there is still a cold anger in Raphael’s eyes.

“I think Michael will heal faster if you leave for a time.”

Raphael’s words are a stab in the gut.Lucifer can’t help his pained gasp. All he wants is to help Michael, to show him he is sorry for all the things that have gone so wrong.

There is a flicker of sympathy in the healer’s eyes, and his voice is a little gentler though his tone remains firm. “Lucifer.  I see that you want to help.  But—you and Michael—it has just gotten worse over time, and he is in despair… his feelings toward you are too conflicted.  Let me and Gabriel care for him, remind him he is loved. Let him understand how you have been helping him without your being here, causing him to remember how you also hurt him.”

Lucifer feels sick at the idea that his presence might hurt more than it helps but can’t deny the truth in Raphael’s words. He looks at Gabriel, who is watching their exchange silently, and she nods at him.

Lucifer stands, unwillingly releasing Michael’s hand. He bends to kiss his twin’s brow, which feels clammy and cold.

Raphael nods reassuringly as Lucifer steps back. “You need to talk to Amenadiel,” Raphael tells him. “He has been very upset.”

Lucifer snarls at the sudden memory of Amenadiel attacking Michael when he was delirious and helpless. “You’re right, I do need to talk to him.” With a final longing look at Michael, Lucifer forces himself to leave the room and step out onto the deck. Blinking away tears, he unfurls his wings and takes off.

***

“Brother. I am here.”

Lucifer does not turn at the sound of Amenadiel’s voice. He had summoned his older brother here to the penthouse by prayer, and is standing at the bar when Amenadiel lands on the balcony outside.

There is a pause, and then Amenadiel adds, “Lucifer, let me explain.”

Not even an apology. Lucifer does turn now, fixing Amenadiel with a glare. “What do you think you can explain?” he demands.

Amenadiel looks uncomfortable. “Luci, I did it for you. You agreed to fight to the death. But then you spared Michael…You broke a promise. What if the others didn’t back you because of that? There was talk about whether you can be trusted. I stood up for you…I couldn’t let them question you.”

Lucifer stares at Amenadiel. “Let me get this straight.  You stood up for me, supported me through all this, and when I won, when I became God-elect, you decided I was wrong to let my twin live. And that you could fix things by beating him to death?”  His voice rises to a roar in his outrage.

“He was badly hurt,” Amenadiel says, stubborn in even the face of Lucifer’s fury. “If we had said that he had died from his injuries, then no one—”

Whatever he is about to say is cut off by the punch Lucifer aims at his face, connecting solidly. Amenadiel staggers back, blood pouring from his nose. “Lucifer, wait…!”

“YOU BASTARD!” Lucifer throws himself at Amenadiel. The eldest angel tries to defend against the attack, but clearly does not want to actually fight back against his God-elect. He backs away, arms raised, until he reaches the door to the balcony and trips on the step.  Lucifer is on him immediately, kneeling over him and raining down blows.

Lucifer realizes he is both snarling and crying, furious and broken-hearted at Amenadiel’s betrayal. His punches begin to slow, his rage winding down into exhausted despair, when a voice behind him shouts, “Michael!”

Lucifer turns in surprise to see Chloe standing by the couch. He must have missed the sound of the elevator during the fight. Even as he turns, fist still raised over Amenadiel, he hears two things: his brother shouting “No!” and the sound of a gunshot.

Pain explodes in Lucifer’s right shoulder, the bullet’s impact spinning him and knocking him to the floor. Demon steel bullets, he thinks in agony as his head cracks into the floor and everything fades out.

Chapter 20

Summary:

Michael is alone with Gabriel and Raphael, finally remembering that not every sibling hates him.

Michael wakes to pain, as he does every day. The pain is different now, and somehow not as severe as he is expecting. He feels warmth against his side, and opens his eyes, expecting to see Lucifer, already feeling a surge of conflicting emotions in response.

But it isn’t Lucifer. His sister Gabriel is curled up against his side like a sleeping kitten. Despite himself, Michael can’t help but smile at the sight, remembering how Gabriel used to always try to cuddle up to him when they were…not young, but not yet ancient. 

Even before Lucifer Fell, Michael had become too self-conscious about his own image… the Sword of God, proud and mighty, and yet always less than the Lightbringer… and had pushed away such signs of affection.  Most of his siblings accepted the push—it was easier to move away from the Angel of Fear then to ask themselves if he really wanted to be apart. Gabby never did. She stayed steadfastly by Michael’s side, often irritatingly so, even when he was hurt and angry and lashing out cruelly at anyone who came too close. She would chatter endlessly, scold him for being a jerk to others, and play dumb if he tried to drive her away with insults, taking anything he said to her as a joke.

It became a joke to everyone. Gabby was a yapping puppy, following Michael around. Gabby let those insults roll off her too…after her transition she played even more into the image of a ditzy baby sister who worshipped her cranky big brother.

Michael feels an almost painful warmth melting a crack in the ice around his heart. Gabby loves him, has always loved him… just as he loves her back, this ridiculous, tough, loyal sibling.

“Michael…how do you feel?” Raphael’s soft voice startles him. Caught off guard, he lashes out with his Fear, breathing fast in automatic panic.

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” Raphael says, his voice soothing and apologetic. He lays a hand on Michael’s arm, and Michael twitches involuntarily.

“Do you mind? I was sleeping!” Gabriel is glaring accusingly at Michael, her expression annoyed, her hair looking like a disheveled dandelion gone to seed. The sparkle in her eye belies her irritated performance.

Michael laughs.  He didn’t think he had it in him anymore, but being here with the two siblings who never abandoned him eases the tiniest bit of weight from his heart. A thought of Lucifer flickers past, trailing complex emotions. Michael doesn’t want to untangle that right now.

“Sorry, sister,” he says. “Tell Raph not to sneak up on me next time.”

Raphael chuckles and begins to ask his question again. “How are you feeling—”

If Raphael finishes the question, Michael does not hear it, because he is arching backwards as agony erupts first in his shoulder, then in his head.  “Sam!” he cries out, knowing instantly that his twin is hurt, that he is feeling Lucifer’s pain (as if he didn’t have enough of his own) and he doesn’t question how. “Someone is hurting him!”

Raphael and Gabriel are both reaching for Michael, trying to calm him, trying to understand what is happening. Out of the pain, the roil of conflicting feelings about his twin, Michael gasps, “Please.  Help him.”

Chapter 21

Summary:

We learn what happens to Lucifer at the Penthouse.

“It doesn’t matter who it was, why would you shoot him??”

Lucifer’s head feels like a bomb slowly exploding, while his shoulder feels like it is filled with fiery-hot shrapnel.  The shouted question is too close to his aching head and he flinches.

“He’s awake!” Another shriek makes him twitch, but this time Lucifer recognizes the voice as Rae Rae’s. He opens his eyes and tries to make sense of what’s happening around him.

Rae Rae is kneeling next to him, pressing hard on the place with the worst of the grinding pain in his shoulder. His instinct is to try to get away from the torture, but a sensible part of him knows she is probably trying to staunch bleeding.

Bleeding…from his shoulder…because…

“Chloe!” Lucifer hisses. Now he remembers. She thought he was Michael. She had called Michael’s name right before she shot him. 

Shot him with literal god-damned demon steel bullets.

“Lucifer, I’m sorry!” That’s Chloe’s voice. Lucifer turns his head toward the sound, he wants to growl but a stab of pain makes him groan instead.

Unexpectedly, someone else growls. Lucifer focuses on Chloe, realizes she is being held in a tight grip by an angry angel with their feathers fully bladed. It takes a moment to process the fact that the angry angel is Raphael. Lucifer can’t recall the last time he saw Raphael’s wings in battle readiness.  His brother is as lethal as any archangel when he needs to be, but Raphael would prefer to heal rather than fight as a rule.

Lucifer’s heart warms at the realization that Raphael’s anger is on either his own behalf or (more likely) Michael’s. Raphael would be displeased at any human harming an angel, but he is furious now. It could be because Chloe hurt a brother he cares for…or at least used to… or because she hurt God-elect… but Lucifer thinks it is most likely he is so angry because she thought she was shooting Michael. 

Lucifer is just happy for Michael to be so fiercely defended.

He looks around further, and Rae Rae, anticipating his question, says quietly, “Gabby stayed with Michael.”

“Did I pray…?” Lucifer asks, confused about the exact sequence of events that got them here.

He had spoken softly, but Raphael answers rather than Rae Rae.  “He felt what you felt.”

Not possible! Lucifer can’t even say it aloud, because even if it can’t be true, he wants it to be. Our bond…  But Raphael would not lie, and they are here…

“It was severed when I Fell,” Lucifer whispers. 

Before anyone says anything else, there is the rush of wings, and then the sound of Amenadiel’s aggrieved voice.

“Finally, brother, we can sort out this ridiculous situation.”

Lucifer turns his head again, shifts under Rae Rae’s hands, biting back another groan at the grinding pain.  Amenadiel is standing near the balcony doors, arms folded, the blood smeared on his face giving a Lucifer a thrill of satisfaction.

Zadkiel stands just inside the doors, and he is glaring at Amenadiel. Amenadiel’s expression slowly morphs from smug and annoyed to concerned. 

“Zadkiel,” Amenadiel says slowly. “You know I have been working to get Lucifer to transition from God-elect to Godhood, despite Michael’s interference in the process…

“Silence, brother,” Zadkiel says sharply, startling Amenadiel enough that he obeys. “You are accused of severely injuring and attempting to kill the Archangel Michael—”

“No,” Amenadiel interrupts, his eyes going wide, probably at the realization that the Angel of Righteousness knows what he had done. “I-I was defending Lucifer from his tricks—” he stammers defensively.

Zadkiel cuts him off in turn. “You tried to kill him after our God-elect chose to spare his life.”  He turns his steely gaze to Chloe. “Chloe Decker. You are also accused of attempting to kill the Archangel Michael, and of harming the God-elect. You will both be judged.” 

He nods toward the balcony and Saraqael enters.  She goes to Raphael and takes an equally firm grip on Chloe.  “Go care for your patients, Raphael,” she says. “Zadkiel and I assume responsibility for these two.” She gives Lucifer a solemn nod.

Lucifer is stunned.  He hurts, he’s bleeding, the Detective has betrayed him yet again… but he is more hopeful than he has been for a long time.

Because without words or prayer, he can feel Michael’s presence as if he is here, and he can feel Michael sending support and sharing pain. Their twin bond has returned.

Chapter 22

Summary:

Michael considers the implications of their restored twin bond when Lucifer is brought back to their mountain hiding place.

Notes:

Sorry for the long interruption... life happens... twice as much and somehow never at the same time for coauthors! Hope you enjoy this it's-about-time update!

Michael wakes and it hurts, like it always does, but maybe, finally, it hurts noticeably less. It’s also warm and cozy, which helps, but the air seems stifling, hard to breathe. Something tickles his face and Michael opens his eyes to a wall of fluffy dove-gray softness. He smiles, recognizing Gabby’s wing. Literally smothering him with affection at the moment.

Michael pushes her wing off his face. It’s dead weight, she is deeply asleep. As he shoves down the feathery weighted blanket, there is movement and a whimper behind him. Michael turns his head to look just as a hand grabs Gabby’s wing and tugs it back up, and Michael gets a mouthful of feathers.

Lucifer is curled on that side, looking pale and drawn, his shoulder bandaged. He also looks decidedly grumpy, eyes squeezed shut, frowning.  Michael almost laughs. Lucifer looks like Dad just told him it’s time to get up and make some stars, and Lucifer is about to whine, “Five more minutes, Dad.”

Wriggling higher in the bed to get clear of their sister’s wing, Michael stares down at his twin and tries to sort out his feelings. He vaguely remembers panicking, wanting Lucifer as far from him as possible, and feeling relief when he went. Resting from the struggle of hating him and… whatever other emotions he was feeling. But then, there had come that moment when their twin bond was restored. It had brought agonizing pain (as if he didn’t have plenty of that!) as he felt Lucifer’s injury as if it was happening to him. He hadn’t expected to feel the sudden need to help, to fly to his twin’s defense (impossible, both literally and otherwise). Nor had he expected the anguish of not being able to do anything but wait, frantic with worry.

The last time Michael had felt Lucifer’s pain had been when he Fell. When Michael had cast Samael down as Father ordered, steeling himself against his twin’s pleas, grimacing at his own pain as Sam pulled Michael’s wing from its socket in his desperate attempt to hold on. Michael had wrenched free, and Sam Fell. And then Sam had started to burn. Michael remembers the shock of that pain, the disbelief. Gabriel and Raphael were the ones who had held him back when he tried to leap after his twin, even though with his dislocated wing he would just have plummeted along with him. And the agony was unbearable. And even worse were Sam’s desperate cries for help.

So Michael had broken the bond.

Michael had always told everyone their bond was severed when Sam…Lucifer…landed in Hell. Let everyone think it was just an inevitable consequence of the Fall. He’s never known if Lucifer could tell it was deliberate. That Michael couldn’t do anything for him and couldn’t bear his twin’s suffering…so he cut him off. The bond had never returned, even when Lucifer started escaping to earth. Michael had assumed it was gone forever.

He feels it now, the connection that hums between them, without even trying. He feels the dull ache in his shoulder and knows he could open to that, feel it fully, but that he doesn’t have to. Presumably Lucifer will experience the same…will know the pain of Michael’s scars without having to match the agony unless he allows himself to? Could they always do that?

“Nnngghhh.”

Lucifer awakens with a grunt of pain and his eyes open. They look at each other for a moment, both wrestling with what this means. Michael can feel Lucifer’s own conflicted feelings and memories stirred up by their bond, just as his own have been.

Then Lucifer smiles like a sunrise and fills their bond with…care. Affection. Michael doesn’t dare call it love, not yet…but it could be.

And then Lucifer scowls, and grumbles, “Damn it, Gabriel, your wing is too hot,” and shoves their sister’s wing off himself, which startles her awake. Gabby folds her wings in tightly, punching Michael in the chest with her wing wrist as she does, simultaneously dragging her (thankfully unsharpened) pinions across Lucifer’s face.

Michael looks from Lucifer’s cranky expression to Gabby’s sleepily affronted one, and laughs.

 

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Chapter 23

Summary:

Amenadiel is Judged.

The sign outside Lux reads, “Closed for a private event.” Which, of course, is true, while not causing the hubbub a more specific sign would cause. Such as, “Closed for a Celestial Tribunal and Judgement of Souls.”

Equally accurate: “Closed while God-elect tries to not fuck up.”

It seems strange to hold a judgement in Lux, but then there has never been a case of an angel and a human being judged together, and for nearly the same crime. Even after his sexcapade in the Garden, Lucifer had received his punishment separately from that visited on Eve… and subsequently on all of humanity. I still call it freedom, not punishment, for the humans, Lucifer thinks. Me, I got screwed.

Amenadiel’s judgement would normally be passed in the Silver City, but Chloe can’t go there while she is still alive. And now, probably never. Lucifer’s heart clenches, the part of him that once loved her filled with sadness and regret for all the ways things went so wrong. He pushes away the what-ifs. He has chewed over all of them, first in his head, then with Michael until Michael told him to shut up already about things he can’t change. He can’t bother Linda with them either, since for one thing she would also tell him to get over what is already done. And she is struggling with her own what-ifs, learning that the father of her child is not who she thought.

And speaking of children… Dear Beatrice is with Penelope now, and Daniel’s grieving parents have opened their arms to her, but the poor child so recently lost her father…and now even though Chloe is here, she is lost to Beatrice as much as Daniel is. Lucifer has long since made arrangements to ensure Beatrice will never have financial worries, but he doesn’t know what he can do for her fractured heart.

Zadkiel calls Amenadiel forward first. Angels before humans, just the way Dad didn’t like it.

Lucifer feels more than hears Michael swallowing a whine beside him. He wishes Michael didn’t have to be here at all. His brother has already had several panic attacks at just the idea of seeing Amenadiel again. Lucifer tries to push strength and love through their still-returning twin bond, senses vague gratitude in return. He hopes it is enough.

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“Amenadiel,” Zadkiel intones. “You are accused by your Host of severely harming, and attempting to kill, our brother the Archangel Michael.”

Michael’s breath shudders but then Lucifer hears him taking slow, deliberate breaths, calming himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gabby lean close to Michael, comforting him with touch.

“Lucifer, God-elect, will now pass your judgement.”

Lucifer unfurls, lifting his wings high. Amenadiel looks up for the first time since he entered the room, his dark brown eyes deeply sad. Saraqael had told Lucifer that their eldest brother seemed to have finally acknowledged the extent of his failure. Lucifer pauses, expecting Amenadiel to make one last attempt to beg for mercy, but he is silent.

“Amenadiel,” Lucifer says steadily, keeping both the anger and sadness from his voice, “I am sending you to Hell.”

Amenadiel closes his eyes and Lucifer continues. “You are not going to rule Hell, or to guard the gates. You are going to Hell like any guilty human soul might. I don’t know if you’ll just wander the halls, or end up in a loop, but you will remain there until you have found redemption, and are then able to forgive yourself.”

Zadkiel hands Lucifer the flaming sword and it lights instantly. “Unfurl your wings,” he says grimly.

Michael whimpers, even though he knows what is going to happen. Amenadiel’s eyes fly open in shock.

Lucifer is not going to cut off another brother’s wings, ever. These theatrics are to let Amenadiel imagine the possibility. He is going to slice off his brother’s flight feathers so that he can’t fly right back out of Hell.

Except when Amenadiel unfurls, Lucifer joins in the collective gasp that runs around the room. Amenadiel’s wings are naked, featherless, covered with oozing sores. Lucifer looks into his brother’s eyes. Amenadiel nods, once, and Lucifer knows that Amenadiel has once again self-actualized his own guilt, just as when he tried have Lucifer killed. He is relearning a lesson he had once learned, and then forgotten.

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Lucifer lowers the flaming sword, and it flickers to darkness. “We will know you are redeemed, and have forgiven yourself, when you can fly back to us.”

“Judgement is passed,” Zadkiel proclaims. “Now bring forward the human Chloe Decker.”

Chapter 24

Summary:

Chloe is Judged.

Michael watches as Saraqael and Raguel bring the so-called Miracle forward. He takes slow breaths, willing himself to be calm, pushing away the last vestiges of panic that have been clawing at him all day.

It had taken all his self-discipline, all his fear of humiliation, to not collapse in babbling terror at his first sight of Amenadiel since the time…

…since Amenadiel had tried to kill him, to stomp him to death like an insect, when Michael was broken and hurt and nearly out of his mind with pain and grief.

When Amenadiel had been brought in, and then brought to stand before Lucifer, Michael had trembled so violently his vision blurred. But he had held on, hadn’t collapsed into a pile of quivering celestial pudding. 

It hadn’t only been a result of his self-discipline and pride. Gabby’s hand on his shoulder had helped him remain calm. And most of all, Lucifer’s love pouring through their twin bond had given Michael the strength to keep it together during Lucifer’s threatening reenactment of the day he took Michael’s wings. They had talked about it ahead of time, Michael had agreed it was an important gesture and insisted he could handle it. Of course his confidence had been a complete lie, he’d had no idea if he could really manage, so in the end he’d been inordinately proud of managing to stay in his seat with no more than a whimper.

Then Amenadiel had unfurled the utter wreckage of his wings and Michael had been struck speechless. His own lost wings, even at their rattiest and most uneven, had never been such a horror to behold as the limbs that are virtually rotting off Amenadiel’s body before their eyes.

The gruesome sight had, paradoxically, filled Michael with relief. He had expected the satisfaction of vengeance. He had been grateful for the feeling of safety that came with the sense of all danger falling away from Amenadiel just like those sticky, putrid feathers.

But relief had been the strongest feeling. Michael had been surprised by that, but he understands now. Amenadiel is doing this damage to himself, with his own unconscious self-actualization. Which means without a doubt that his eldest brother knows he was wrong. More than wrong. He had tried to murder his own wounded brother and in his soul he knows how far he Fell.

So now that Decker is standing before them, Michael is calmer than he ever expected to be at this point.

Which is good, because the Miracle is struggling against the unbreakable grips of the two angels holding her, and glaring at Michael with some of the purest loathing he’s ever seen on a human face. When she looks at Lucifer, though, her expression changes to agonized loss…and maybe a hint of desperate hope?

Some of that hope may be that Lucifer couldn’t possibly judge so harshly a woman he once loved. If so, she’s out of luck, because Lucifer will not be forced to face that choice.

Michael will take that on for him. Because Michael is the Great Judge, the weigher of human souls. He will Judge Chloe Decker.

Michael stands and steps forward. Lucifer steps back, feathers brushing against Michael in what is clearly a deliberate gesture—affection, support, thanks? He keeps his wings high behind Michael. Michael understands with sudden gratitude that Lucifer is symbolically giving him his wings, the celestial authority they represent here, in the absence of his own.

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While the human surely doesn’t understand the nuances, there is no mistaking that Michael is her Judge, not Lucifer, and her fear surges.

“Yes,” Michael rumbles, the taste of her fear familiar and soothing. “Tell me what you fear the most.”

It pours out of her, floodgates opening on fears that have been held behind a dam of anger. Her greatest fears are of loss. Of losing Lucifer (he is already lost to her but she doesn’t seem to believe it yet), loss of her power and authority, her future as Mrs. God… at the end, too late but at least it is there, she fears the loss of family, the effects of her choices on her daughter. And she fears Michael’s vengeance.

But Michael is the Judge today, not the Sword of God. He does not seek revenge; he is weighing her soul and it speaks for itself.

“Chloe Decker, your soul is filled with darkness, but you feel no guilt for the greatest harms you have done. I Judge you unworthy of Heaven. When you die, you will go to Hell.”

He is about to tell her that she may be Judged anew at the time of her death, that perhaps not all hope is lost if she lives long enough—and works hard enough—to redeem her many sins. But he is interrupted by her enraged scream.

“I HATE you, Michael! You ruined everything!”

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Michael is silent, steeling himself for her rant, struggling to not allow his own voice to echo hers for his own mistakes.

But before she can say—or scream—anything else, Lucifer’s soft, sad voice silences her.

“No, Chloe. You did.”

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Chapter 25

Summary:

Epilogue.

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Michael sits at the piano in the penthouse, practicing. Today it is Beethoven. His repertoire is all classical, always has been. Lucifer has been pushing him to learn some modern arrangements, but Michael has resisted so far. He'd like to recover some of his muscle memory with music he knows, first. However, he is somewhat tempted to move into learning some blues. 

Maybe in secret though. Lucifer has said that if Michael would just update his playlist a bit, he could perform down in Lux like Lucifer does. His dear idiot brother had offered that as if it was a carrot, not the stick it actually is. Michael would far prefer to remain in the shadow, not the spotlight.

At least for now.

Not that 'in secret' is really a thing these days. With their twin bond restored, neither of them are very good at hiding things from the other. Michael supposes that will get even worse once Lucifer actually becomes God, assuming he'll become omniscient and all that.

Ugh. He already thinks he knows everything. He'll be insufferable when he actually does...

Lucifer has gone down to check on Amenadiel in Hell a couple of times. He'd reported after the first visit that Amenadiel did indeed end up in a Loop. Michael had needed to prod him quite a bit before he revealed that nature of that Loop.

"He's mostly reliving that time he tried to kill you," Lucifer had finally admitted. "Except in the Loop, he succeeds. He kills you, and faces the horror grief that causes, and then it starts over." Lucifer had looked at Michael with sad eyes. "It reminded me of my own Loop. With Uriel," he had finished quietly.

Michael had felt an odd relief at the information. It had been reassuring to know that Amenadiel's greatest guilt is over trying to murder him. "Mostly?" he had asked then, catching the modifier in Lucifer's words.

Lucifer had quirked a small smile. "Every now and again, I suppose for variety, he relives the time he arranged for Malcolm to kill me. I guess he still feels a little bad about that."

Michael's thoughts are interrupted by the ding of the elevator (which now has code lock controlling access) and he looks up as Lucifer steps out and heads straight for the bar.

Michael gets up to join him there. Lucifer sets out two glasses and two bottles--scotch for himself, vodka for Michael--and then pours.

"Is it over?" Michael asks quietly.

Lucifer drinks down half his scotch and nods. "Yes. Chloe..." he never calls her 'the detective' anymore, "Chloe has lost parental rights for Beatrice. Beatrice will remain with her grandparents for now, but they are designating Linda as a legal guardian and she will initiate adoption proceedings. Though I think in practice Mazikeen is the one really taking on a mothering role here, Me help us all."

Michael waits, but when Lucifer doesn't continue, he prompts, "And...?"

Lucifer sighs. "She got life. Attempted first degree murder. The prosecution pushed for the heaviest sentence due to her being a police officer and the clear premeditation. Eligible for parole in twenty years." He looks sad. "I know we agreed to allow human justice first, but unless she is paroled, I don't think she will have any opportunity to redeem herself during her life."

Michael sighs as well. "She will at least have the opportunity to try to change her heart. But for now, she is marked for Hell. We can at least hope she finds enough guilt to send herself there for what she has done, but that is where she will go either way." He pats Lucifer's hand a little awkwardly as he promises, "I will Judge her again, and will know if she has changed at all."

"Thank you, Michael. I know I shouldn't have the least sympathy for her at this point..."

But you do. And maybe always will, a little. Michael doesn't say anything. His twin had fallen, and fallen hard, for the Miracle. Maybe harder than his Fall into Hell had been, given how much he had forgiven her for, and it's not surprising that maybe that some regret will linger for a long, long time.

But he knows in the end, the Miracle crossed a final line with Lucifer. She will never be allowed near him again. The tiny little vestige of regret, of sympathy from the Devil, that's just Lucifer. He's always had a soft heart.

Michael snorts a laugh. At his twin's inquisitive look, he shares the thought he just had.

"Just funny how it all works out. I guess it's for the best you won. Because it's the Devil, not the Saint, who has a chance of actually being a merciful God. Humanity lucked out."

With that, Michael starts tentatively picking out Ballad of a Thin Man on the piano, and is rewarded with a big smile from Lucifer.

Things really did work out pretty well, didn't they?

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