Chapter Text
Lucifer wishes he could say that starting to fix things with Charlie and visiting the hotel regularly made all of his problems disappear, but it’s never that simple. Sure, he’s trying to heal his relationships and working hard on being supportive of her dreams, but it’s difficult to get back on his feet after everything. He just wants a crutch, and has none now that Lilith left for good. He’s on his own as the King of Hell.
The Queen had been absent for so long, far past the 7 years that had built up before the fight with the Exorcists. So, her showing up at the hotel suddenly with nothing to say other than that she was leaving, Lucifer felt nothing. Numb. However, Charlie felt it, she felt betrayed and blindsided, just like he did the day she told him that they had to divorce and go their separate ways. He expected this for himself, but never for his child. Never Charlie.
Part of him wanted to stop her, to plead for her to stay so they could try to put it back together. But, if the past had taught the fallen one thing, it’s that trying to beg for a change and resolution never works. It only ever makes things worse. So, he watched her go as Charlie screamed at her to stop and listen, the Queen never to be seen again.
Charlie was beside herself for months, unable to understand why the mother she looked up to abandoned everyone and everything so easily. And once again, Lucifer didn’t know how to help and support his daughter. All he could do was try to comfort, having no answer to Charlie’s sobs asking how Lilith could do this, and why she didn’t even explain where she was going. He’s truly as lost as her.
She eventually picked herself up, as she always does, and decided that this change means she has to work even harder for Hell, for both the hellborn and the sinners. If they don’t have a queen anymore, the princess is here to step up and take charge. Of course, he’s happy to see his daughter coming into her own, but he wishes she wasn’t practically forced into the role.
So, Lucifer make a decision. If Charlie can push through and continue even with the loss and pain of Lilith’s abandonment, so can he. Giving up isn’t an option anymore, he can’t leave everything in the hands of his daughter and the other sins. But damn, it’s a lot to handle, too much for him to cope with. Despite knowing what needs to be done, it seems all he can manage is making ducks all day.
Life was easier with Lilith, that’s what Lucifer quickly realized. She supported him even when she was cruel, a constant in his life for better or for worse. When she was gone during her 7 year absence, he still sensed her presence. But now there’s nothing, and he feels lost as to how to move forward. So, he focuses on his ducks and worries about things like his responsibilities as the king later. It’s easier to leave himself and let the facade take over. A mask speaking for him in an obtuse and grandiose fashion. He’s basically on autopilot, doing the same thing every day until suddenly, something changes-
CRACK
A deafening crash and slam reverberates through hell, similar to the sound of glass shattering during an explosion. What follows is a holy choir and Lucifer’s heart is beating out of his chest as he sits up in his chair. That sounds just like when he fell. He peers through his hell-seeing eye and teleports to the location of the sound. Apprehensive but steadfast, he walks through the warped landscape, looking around to find someone facedown in a large crater.
They look so familiar.
“Uh, helloooo?” Lucifer calls out, walking up to the being. There’s both holy fire and hell flames licking at them, the air opaque with dust kicked up by the impact. With no answer so he tries again, “are you alive? It looks like you’re breathing but I can’t really tell with all the blood and flames.”
Lucifer pokes them with his cane a few times before smacking them on the head with it. They groan, struggling to roll over onto their bloodied back. The moment Lucifer sees the face of the new fallen angel he shrieks at the top of his lungs, “MICHAEL?!”
The man looks over, eyes going wide, “Lucifer?”
“What…” Lucifer stares before hissing, “what did you do!?”
Michael sits up with some effort, saying simply, “It was a necessary sacrifice.”
Lucifer’s legs go weak and he collapses, staring. He wants to scream, yell at Michael until his face is blue, tell him that he’s not welcome and to fuck off. Everything he did to him and more. But all he can do is stare, and Michael stares back. It’s silent, the only sound being the lava river flowing through pride and remnants of the impact.
The estranged twins have been brought back together after 10,000 years under the most unexpected of circumstances, and neither of them can bring themselves to break the silence.
If he’s honest with himself, Lucifer doesn’t even know what to say. Michael looks worse for wear, bloodied and in pain. The physical changes from falling are one thing, but the more obvious injury at present is Michael’s severed wings. The king decides to give him a break for now, at least until he’s not covered in wounds and practically bleeding out. So, Lucifer scoots over awkwardly, taking the handkerchief from his pocket before wiping michaels face of blood.
All he can think is, “you look like shit.”
“I feel like it,” Michael replies, voice rough.
Lucifer sits for a moment, “want to go to my castle? I can try to heal you there, as much as I can at least.”
“Okay.”
“Can you stand?”
“If you help.”
Lucifer can’t help but scoff. After everything, he expects him to help, “that’s rich.” But, he did just offer to heal him. So Lucifer stands and tries to pull him up, groaning, “you’re like twice my weight, how am I supposed to help you?” He lets go and Michael collapses back onto the dirt, making Lucifer cringe with a scoff, “ha! Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, but it is funny seeing you so pathetic.”
Lucifer summons his wings and grabs Michael again, pulling him up with a single swoop. It takes a minute before he can stand on his own but he gets it eventually. Lucifer floats down, giving his brother a hand to steady himself before opening a portal to the castle. Walking through together and into the hall, Michael is dazed, but he can still see the pictures on the walls. Most are Lucifer, Charlie, and Lilith. That’s when it dawns on him, “where is Lilith?”
Lucifer’s hand tenses momentarily before he forces himself to calm down, saying, “she left, but it’s okay! As long as she’s happy, I’m happy.”
“She left? When?”
Lucifer doesn’t answer, instead opening the door to an ornate guest room where Michael is led to the bed. He’s helped to sit, the king asking, “can you take off your shirt? I’ll be right back.”
“Sure.”
Lucifer leaves the room, forcing a deep breath. He knows if he stops moving to think he will break down, so he goes to find a first aid kit. He could just conjure one up but he wants a minute alone. Not to mention needing to save all his magic for the healing that’s about to take place. He truly never thought he would see Michael again, and him falling was out of the question. Nothing about his life makes any sense. His love left, and now his twin, who he thought was the epitome of holy, is down here with him and all the other sinners.
It’s backwards
He finds the first-aid kit and walks to the room, heels clicking against the tile. Each breath is a deliberate inhale and exhale of him trying to beat down the fear and anxiety. It hardly works, but nobody can say he didn’t try. Eventually, Lucifer is back in front of the guest room, hyping himself up before knocking, “can I come in?”
“Yes.”
Lucifer opens the door, seeing Michael is on the bed without a shirt, absolutely covered in injuries. It’s more than he expected. He’s already black and blue, golden blood and gashes littering his skin. He must have put up one hell of a fight. “I haven’t healed anyone in awhile,” Lucifer warns after regaining his composure, walking forward, “but I assume you don’t want to go to the hospital.”
“No.”
Lucifer exhales, “are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Lucifer walks behind Michael, sitting on the bed to look at the wounds where his wings should be. Seeing the limbs literally torn apart and dislodged from the socket like this makes Lucifer thankful Michael cut off his own with a sword during their fight. He decides to use all his energy on healing the wings so they might have a chance at growing back right- unlike his.
The only thing that Lucifer can truly do is get the ripped joints back into the socket, and what remains of the limbs into working order. It’s harder than he was expecting, as the damage is both extensive and holy in nature. After almost 20 minutes of focusing all of his magic on Michael’s back, he runs out of energy.
“Well,” The king pulls back, “I don’t think I can do anything other than this for your wings. But they’re in place, so that’s something!”
“It’s more than enough,” Michael finally replies with something more than a one-word answer, sounding like he’s exhausted more than anything else
Lucifer hums, starting to clean and bandage the rest of the wounds that he couldn't get to. To Michaels credit, he just sits through the poorly executed stitches and sloppy attempts at first aid. Eventually, everything is patched up so he stands to walk back around the large bed, facing his brother. His tail twitches nervously but there’s no other indication to show how anxious he is.
“Thank you for helping me, it’s- I didn’t expect it,” Michael admits, and Lucifer has to think about what to say for a few moments. He also didn’t expect to drop everything and help the man who threw him down to hell in the first place. He always thought that if he saw his twin again, he'd make him feel the pain of that day. But now, that would be similar to kicking someone while they’re already down. Even the King of Hell isn’t so petty, but it is tempting.
So, “despite everything, I wouldn’t leave you broken and bleeding on the ground, even if that’s what you did to me.” Lucifer gets a strained look, but is provided no other response. Too mentally drained to put any thought into that reaction, he instead asks, “do you need anything else, something to drink? I can get you clothes to sleep in, your outfit is basically in pieces.”
“I think sleep would be good,” Michael replies and Lucifer snaps so a change of clothes appears on the bed.
“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll be in my office or workshop. Just follow the lights on the walls. They’ll lead to where I am.” He looks away awkwardly, fidgeting with his cane and dreading what he’s about to say. He literally forces out, “do you- uh, want to talk about it?”
“Not yet, sorry.”
“Okay,” Lucifer says without thinking, because moments later he realizes it’s not actually okay. He needs to know what happened, for Hell's safety if nothing else. If there is unrest in Heaven, more often than not that leaks down to Earth and the 7 Rings, causing a real mess of things. He cannot afford to deal with anything else falling apart or spiraling out of control. Especially right after the exterminations were handled. However, he knows this isn’t the time to address all of the heavy questions and implications that led to this. Instead, he will give Michael a chance to catch his breath.
“Then I’ll take my leave. I’m-“ he hesitates, wondering what the right thing to say is. Eventually, he settles for what he would have wanted to hear so many years ago, “I’m sorry this happened to you, Michael.”
The newly fallen archangel nods, and that’s taken as a cue to leave the room. Lucifer goes out into the hall, door clicking shut behind him, and stands there for a moment. A thick sludge of emotions starts rising up his chest; anger, confusion, anxiety, hope. He doesn’t want to acknowledge any of it. So, he goes to his workshop to drown his feelings in crafting and caffeine, trying to think of a way to explain all of this to Charlie.
Hell almighty, he needs a drink.
Michael listens as Lucifer’s steps recede down the hallway, and he can’t believe that the king is truly just letting him stay in the castle without demanding an explanation. There was no hesitation about whether he should help or not. For years, he’s been told by everyone in Heaven that even if he went down to Hell and tried to talk with his brother, Lucifer would just be obstinate and unreasonable. Perhaps if he didn’t show up half dead, that would have been the case. It almost makes Michael question his own actions from the last 10,000 years- but only briefly. He can’t waver in his convictions, even if he’s fallen and in Hell.
He changes out of his burnt and bloody clothes into the outfit Lucifer made. After washing off his face and arms, he lays in the large bed, shocked by how comfortable it is. He was sure this would be an awful experience from day 1, but it hasn’t been. Maybe that’s because he’s in Lucifer’s home, being cared for by the King of Hell. Instead of entertaining these thoughts, he closes his eyes, letting the exhaustion from this horrible day catch up and bring him to sleep.
Fortunately, he doesn’t dream. Unfortunately, when he wakes up to light filtering through the curtains, he is still in Hell. It wasn’t some sort of delusion or temporary insanity brought on by years of overworking.
The castle is still, almost eerily silent. Usually once the day begins staff are busy, but apparently that’s not how it works here. Sitting up, he looks around. Being so out of it last night he didn’t really notice his surroundings. However, now he can see that the entire room is themed off of a circus. How fitting. He heard of LuLu World from the other angels.
The first thing that truly processes for Michael is that he feels disgusting. He’s covered in caked on blood and the stitches from Lucifer are taught and sore. His body usually just heals itself overnight, but he doesn’t sense his powers in full anymore. If they’re still there, it’s in a limited capacity. He sincerely hopes that changes.
Michael sighs and stands, going into the bathroom to look at what he’s become. In the mirror he sees himself and he has to consciously stop from freaking out. Clawed hands. Inhuman feet. Sharp fangs. He’s a demon just like the rest of them. Then he feels something behind him, and looks, finding a tail. That’s the one that makes him officially lose it, laughing maniacally, “just what am I supposed to be?”
Despite his efforts, every ounce of composure he’s built up over the years slips away and a strangled sob leaves his throat. There’s no going back, this is it. He’s fallen. Not wanting to hear his own emotions, he turns on the shower to hopefully muffle his crying and uneven gasps. He strips and climbs under the stream, letting the water run across his injuries and deep into the sorrow. Unable to do anything else, Michael falls to his knees and weeps.