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After the Fall

Chapter Text

Two hands grab his hips and the devil moans, when the second archangel that's trapped with him inside the cage, begins to move again. The touch burns. With his own grace ice cold and Michael's holy fire, physical contact is bound to cause irritation. Lucifer grinds his teeth as the air crackles, because Michael lets the tip of his wings run over Lucifer's body. They feel like a second pair of hands and Lucifer wants to scream how good it feels.

"That's it, little brother," Michael breathes low. "Let me in. You always loved it like this."

He bites into Lucifer's shoulder. Blood trickles down the skin, but the devil doesn't care. They did worse things to each other, in the war and ever since they ended up here.

"Come on. Hurry up." Lucifer wants to scream, tell Michael to take him hard.

But they've done that before, fucking between their fights. Or fought while fucking. This is different. Michael still isn't gentle, yet the usual violence is missing. He isn't seeking to break Lucifer by brute force.

"We have time," Michael growls. The cage rattles as the older Archangel's power shakes the entire construct. "So I'm going to enjoy this."

The cage is just barely capable of containing them. Lucifer's own raging over the last millennia has weakened it and adding Michael into the mix hasn't helped. Their activities, crashing into each other with all their might, caused cracks in the structure. Not enough to get them out of here. But it does grand them a little more freedom.

As result Michael's wings surround them again and Lucifer almost starts trashing when feathers tickle is hard wet cock.

"Fuck Michael," Lucifer curses and his muscles contract around the dick inside him. "Michael, move. Or I'll make you pay for this!"

But Michael, being the older brother and the fucking prick that he always has been, just laughs. Lucifer chaffs under it, but he never gets to voice his protest, because with one deliberate move Michael sinks deeper. He splits Lucifer open with his cock and presses the devil down, for he knows how to work his little brother's body. Centuries of hate and resentment didn't change that. The shameless gasp that Lucifer can't hold back, goes straight into Michael's dick. He jerks his hips again and pants at the sight of Lucifer squirming beneath him.

"Stop... te-asing me!" Another swift thrust wrenches the words from Lucifer's mouth.

He's almost writhing on Michael's cock, would fuck himself on it, if his brother allowed him enough freedom to move. Instead he heaves as the hard length drives deeper, plunges into Lucifer's waiting and far to pliant body. The devil doesn't even care anymore that Michael is holding him down, manhandling him into the position he desires. It's been too long since they did this. Since they were this close.

This is the sweetest form of torture and Lucifer rasps Michael's name, when the archangel begins to fuck him earnest. Hands roam over his body while Michael's wings hold him in place. Lucifer twitches his brother's embrace, desperate, because Michael is the only one capable of dominating him. It was true in heaven and it's true now.

"Look at me," Michael demands and yanks the devil upwards. His mouth crashes onto Lucifer's, claiming it until they're both out of breath. "Look at me, Lucifer. Tell me what you want."

"You," Lucifer moans before he loses the ability to think clearly, because Michael hammers against his prostate. For good reason, Lucifer can't lie like this. "You, Michael. Only you."

Pleasure zings through him as Michael's fingers press against his shoulder blades and Lucifer's own wings come forth. Devil or not, he can't help himself. Lucifer opens his wings wide as invitation and breaks as they slide against Michael's. Everything whites out after that. Lucifer hides his face in the crook of his brother's neck. The only sensation that registers in his mind is how the warmth of Michael's come spreads inside him. It spills out of Lucifer's ass and runs down his thighs. It's a lot and Lucifer sobs, because it means that Michael hasn't touched anyone else ever since the fall separated them.

Lucifer trembles in Michael's arms. The wings protect them from any possible watcher. But not even the thought of the demons witnessing their act could make him move, because Michael's cock is still inside him. Still buried deep and the soft touches of his beloved brother tells Lucifer that it's going to remain this way for a very long time.

Chapter Text


The first time they fuck is after Death takes Sam away. And Adam, for good measure. Lucifer's pretty sure that there's nothing left of Adam anyway. If the boy ever existed and wasn't just the hand-grown back-up plan,  then he's certainly gone now. Michael is too bright, too powerful to leave anything but ashes in his wake. There's a reason he doesn't come to Earth very often. 

Hence why Michael doesn't even truly fight. He just unfurls his wings, stretches them until their tips almost reach the walls of the cage. 

Michael stands there, naked and magnificent. His grace burns and shows all the emotion that his face never portrays. 

"Shit," Lucifer curses as he takes his brother in. It's been a long, long time since they were like this. Just them, hiding nothing. 

Lucifer doesn't look down at himself. He can't. He knows he must look, compared to Michael. Blemished. Tainted. Broken. He spend so long in hell, his wings resemble a dull lightbulb than the light of the morningstar.

"Brother," Michael whispers softly and flies closer.

Since he isn't stuck in Adam anymore, Lucifer can finally hear the emotion in his voice. The vessels always muffle it, especially for someone like Michael, who possesses so much grace that he can barely breath, while he's stuck in a human. Michael is just too big to fit into a moral shell.

Michael's touch is searing hot, when his hand touches Lucifer's face.

"It's been so long," he says. Lucifer tries to jerk back, but Michael refuses to let him go. Heat travels up his body. "How much time has passed ever since we laid eyes on each other?"

"We were just beating the crap out of each other," Lucifer snaps. "Or how would you call that."

A shock wave ripples through the cage and Lucifer fight the urge to answer it. It's just Michael's way of expressing emotions. He never learned it a different way. His older brother was born in a time, when the universe was young. When the planets were still forming and suns burned far brighter than they do today.

"I was trying to get you out of this thing," Michael says, as if it was obvious. "I needed to see you. Not the body you're inhabiting."

"There's nothing to see," Lucifer answers in a bitter voice.

The state of his wings is shameful enough. Let alone the color of his grace. He used to be beautiful. Now he's not more than a beggar. A homeless man in the rain no one wants to look at.

But Michael doesn't raise to the challenge. With the loss of Adam, he gained the ability to breath, to think clearly. Michael's wings stretch wide and engulfs the both of them.

"I missed you," Michael growls and suddenly he's close.

Much, much closer than Lucifer ever thought he'd ever experience again. He cries out, when Michael's grace touches his own, wraps itself around him like two seeking arms. The intend behind it is unmistakable. All layers between Michael and him have fallen, the desire Michael feels for him burns them all away.

Since pleasure is something he had been denied to feel for an incredible long time, Lucifer can't help himself. He bucks into Michael's touch with a sob and clings to his brother.

"Michael," Lucifer cries out, when tendrils travel to the spot, where he feels the most pleasure. "You..."

Lucifer doesn't know what he wants to say. Mostly you haven't forgotten or you still want me. Thankfully the careful and deliberate touch makes any coherent tought impossible. Need burst into his soul from forgotten corners and Lucifer hides himself in the center of Michael's being.

He feels young again, when Michael was the only other being he knew. When Michael protected him from meteors and dying stars. When Michael laid him out in a private, forgotten corner of the universe and made love to him.

"I only ever wanted this," Michael tells with unshakable certainty in his voice.

His hands travel up and down Lucifer's body and learn the differences the time left on him. The sensation is enough to drive the devil half-made. He hasn't forgotten how it used to be. He just never thought he could ever have this again. It makes him eager, more than his pride is comfortable with.

Yet a part of Lucifer is afraid that Michael will change his mind. That this is a trick, a ploy.

Since Michael is already inside of him, such thoughts are meaningless. With Michael's fingers prodding the entrance and holding him open, lying is useless. Michael's mind brushes against his own and Lucifer feels the overwhelming desire, the longing and the loneliness. A vast empty heaven full of face he can't stand.

Lucifer groans, when Michael slides into him. Its all he ever wanted. The deepest desire he couldn't admit to out of pride. But now, with Michael above him, holding him close, while he spreads Lucifer apart until he's fully seated inside, there's no denying what he wants. Craves, with every fibre of his being.

"Michael," Lucifer gasps as his brother climbs above him and shifts deeper.

He had forgotten how big Michael is. How much of Michael exists and how deeply Michael desires to fit into Lucifer.

"Yes?" His brother asks, restless and greedy. "What do you want, Lucifer? Tell me what you want."

"More," Lucifer moans and finally, finally Michael moves.

Crosses the last distance his sex, his grace, his dick is so deeply nestled inside Lucifer that the morningstar doubts it will ever get out again. How, when he has so much of Michael inside him? When Michael's hot pulsing grace fills him out, heats up every frozen corner of his heart and makes him desperate.

"You're still mine," Michael says. He sounds so sure, so confident despite the fact that Lucifer tightens around him.

Refusing to let his little brother get away, Michael uses his wings to grab Lucifer. The feathers brush over the naked chest, tickle the nipples and that alone is enough to make Lucifer cry out. The hands stay on Lucifer's hips in a firm hold until Lucifer's is sitting on Michael's lap. There's no getting away, not with Michael impaling him like this.

Lucifer lets himself fall back, uses Michael as support, because he can't hold himself upright anymore. It's just too much.

"We're going to stay like this," Michael says and it sounds like a promise. "I'll come inside you over and over again, until you've forgotten all your doubts. Until you've forgotten what is like not to be filled up."

"Yes," Lucifer moans and only feels relief, despite the knowledge how long and how rough their coupling can last. "Please, Michael. It's been so long."

"I won't ever let you go again," Michael answer Lucifer's hidden prayer. "I promise you, I won't leave this place. Not without you."

The words are enough to make Lucifer come, for the first in many, many times.     





Chapter Text

The first time after they've sex, Lucifer just hates himself. For centuries he plotted, carved his back to the surface in revenge against God. He had been prepared to take Michael down, fight against his older brother no matter if his death would've utterly destroyed him. Failing and ending up here again is a set back, but seeing Michael trapped in the cage as well makes it bearable. Yet Lucifer hadn't counted in the deep longing he feels in his heart. 

He used to hate Michael. Fantasize about his brother bleeding out beneath him, about hurting him with swords, fists and spells. 

Ever since he got trapped in here, Lucifer sustained himself with what he'd to, if he met Michael again and had him at his mercy. What just happened is the complete opposite. No Michael crying out in pain, begging for him to stop. No laughing devil either. As much as Lucifer wants to loose himself in those fantasies again, his backside is tingling with a pleasant burn, his thighs are covered in drying come and his body aches in the best way. Michael did a good number on him. 

Yet his brother had almost been ... gentle. Careful in a way he rarely was, even before the war. Back then they were wrapped up in each other, never apart for long and Michael still liked to play rough.  

Lucifer turns and studies the other Archangel from a safe distance. Since his grace is so might, vast and powerful Michael seems to fill out the entire cage, though the dimension is endless. It's nothing more than a secluded reality, something God never touched when he started around playing the benevolent creator. The cage therefore big enough to hold two angry archangels, with their power they can even shape to their wishes, but it's impossible to leave. 

If he put his mind to it, Lucifer can make sure he never has to see Michael again, even in here. But he'd always know, always feel the old familiar presence in his heart and the sharp gaze resting on him. 

"I won't come crawling back to you," Lucifer hisses, not caring whenever Michael hears him or not. "Once was enough, for old times shake." 

The devil recedes into a corner and sulks. 




Of course it doesn't last. Far too quickly Lucifer is driven insane by Michael being there and not doing anything. He's aware that Michael has ever been a patient person, plays the long game like no one else. Hell, if humans knew that the attributes like 'God has a plan' and 'Everything happens for a reason' are actually Michael's, they'd be a appealed. For Michael isn't a nice person. He's playful at best and manipulative at his worst. 

Lucifer can feel how Michael is following his steps with his eyes. As big as the cage is, the time apart makes him attuned to his brother's grace. Thousands of years without him, missing him against his own will with every fibre of his being, makes Michael impossible to ignore.

It doesn't help that Michael is a beacon of fire in a otherwise darkened world.

"You bastard," Lucifer curses as his resolves begins to crumble.

Michael's eyes are fixated on him, on his naked and broken body and Lucifer feels himself getting hard. His brother never cared for property or discretion. He refuses to admit it, but Michael's open lusting after him, turns Lucifer on. How can it not, when it's proof that Michael still wants him? Still desires him, despite all the changes Lucifer went through. Yet the devil refuses to move. He doesn't know how long he spends time away from Michael, hard and aching, but he doesn't yield. 

"I won't come to you," Lucifer promises Michael, barely able to tear his eyes off him. "I still have some pride left." 

With a devious smile, Michael angles his head as he says, "Then perhaps you'd prefer it I make the first step?" 

It's the only warning Lucifer gets. Since Michael is a warrior still it doesn't take him long to fly over. Unable to move, Lucifer lets himself be pinned to the ground and his heart doubles in speed as Michael presses his body against his. A gasp leaves his mouth, because hell Michael is just as hard. His gaze just as hungry as he devours Lucifer with his eyes alone, until a hand wraps itself around Lucifer's erection. 

"Yes," Lucifer sobs and his back arches off the ground, fucking into Michael's fist. 

How can he deny himself this ... with Michael coming to him? Definitely showing more than just a little interest. 

With a ferocious growl Lucifer lunges at Michael, raking his fingers through the dark hair as he pulls him down into a damning kiss. It's almost animalistic and frightening, the way they tear at each other. Michael's expression is dark and soul-destroying. He snatches Lucifer's hips and scoots them up. With his little brother's legs raised high into the air, drawn towards his chest and parted wide, it's the easiest act in the world to plunge into the tight heat. 

Steady moans fall from Lucifer's mouth and he rolls his hips, meeting Michael's thrusts. He doesn't care about Michael being rough. He has even forgotten the pride he was clinging to so desperately before, because how can any of this matter when Michael finally acts like the lover he once had been? He used to trust Lucifer, especially with his strength which frightens so many. 

What's pride compared to finally conquering the loneliness in his heart? He spend ages alone and actually forgot how good it feels to have Michael ravish him. 

"Do you truly think I'd let go just like this?" Michael growls as he turns Lucifer over. Canting his hips up and kneeling on all fours is barely necessary, because Michael is keeping him from falling to his face as he fucks into him again. "Do you believe, you're the only one who suffered? I want to hear you, Lucifer. I've missed hearing you beg for me. I missed having you in my arms, in my bed, at my side." 

Lucifer is unable to answer, when Michael changes his pace from fast, desperate thrusts to long, hard and deep jabs. Whining and letting himself be manhandled is all what he can do. It just feels too good to care about anything else. In the end Lucifer comes almost violently and expects Michael to finish soon after, but the older Archangel has other plans. Instead he keeps thrusting as Lucifer pants beneath him, boneless and willing. 

The devil makes a small noise as he realizes that his brother isn't going to stop anytime soon. Above him Michael is murmuring nonsense, praise and profanity, yet not changing the pace in the slightest. His moans hitch with every slap of Michael's body against his ass. With Michael no longer keeping his grace in check, it's as if their bodies are on fire, banishing the cold Lucifer carried around for so long. 

His muscles contracted with Michael's cock starting to twitch and pulsate inside him and Lucifer falls over the edge again. 

"How long are you going to keep doing this?" Lucifer groans as the orgasm subsides. For now at least, because meanwhile there's a searing sensation in his ass, Michael hasn't slowed down in the slightest. Rather it seems that he's attempting to fuck his come deeper into Lucifer. 

"Not anytime soon, little brother," Michael says, surprisingly composed. He shifts them until he's more or less above Lucifer, hands planted next to his head until the only connection between them is Michael's hard shaft driving into him. "We've a lot to make to make up for." 

After that Lucifer can't tell how much time passes. His entire world is reduced to Michael above him and his cock brushing past his entrance again, again ... and again. Endlessly. It's also impossible to tell how often he comes, how often he ends up crying out Michael's name. The only time he's granted a moment of reprieve is when Michael uses is tongue. Licks over his abused puffy hole, which makes Lucifer scream all over again. 

Only after an eternity Michael finally lets go. The older archangel wraps his wings around them, while Lucifer is half asleep against his chest. The devil barely reacts. There's something solid pressing against his entrance again. His hole flutters around the intrusion and Lucifer expects another around. At this point, he's too blissed out to care, but Michael leaves it at that. 

"Why?" Lucifer murmurs. 

"A reminder," Michael whispers and kisses his brother's forehead. "Because we've been separated for so long." 

Lucifer grunts, yet ultimately doesn't care about Michael's reasoning, because for the first time since his father cast him down, it feels like as if he's back in Heaven. 




Chapter Text

Watching Lucifer sleep is a luxury Michael never thought to possess again. Right now his little brother is curled into a ball, pressed against his chest and snoring softly. Their recent round of intense sex wore him out and perhaps Michael should be doing the same, yet he can't let go of the opportunity. He can't remember the last time he was able to enjoy Lucifer's mere presence. After being apart for thousands of years he needs to enjoy very single moment of it. Who knows how long it'll last? 

Michael sighs, stroking Lucifer's hair. Others might see the cage as punishment for his failures. In truth he doesn't mind it. Many forget that he helped building the cage, if he truly wanted he could find a way out of here. Yet why should he? Earth is uninteresting for him and Heaven a mess. With their father gone, all the responsibilities fell to him. His brothers needed his guidance, Raphael a therapist, humans a god and the monsters roaming earth a general, who put them into their place. 

Sad how true it is that he's nothing more than a loyal, mindless soldier. The good son who carries on the work of an absent father. 

"It's not like as if I had a choice," Michael murmurs and leans down to kiss Lucifer. "How else was I supposed to distract myself?" 

Still he can feel the rift inside his soul. Once Lucifer claimed this place, before their connection snapped. He learned to ignore the ache. In fact, Michael ignored most what had to do with actually getting in touch with his emotions. Basing his decisions on logical reasons was better than listening to his heart. That stupid, useless stone brought him in trouble in the first place.

And yet ... somehow he ended up here again, laying next to Lucifer, their wings entangled and the evidence of their last round drying on their skin.

Warmth spread through his body, lighting up his grace as Michael remembers back on how he fucked and fucked Lucifer again and again. Unable to stop himself, one of Michael's wings brushes over Lucifer's ass. Slips between the cheeks and tickle the entrance.

The answer is a soft moan. A sound not even the God's own choirs praising his divine presence can compare to. 

"I'll never get enough of this," Michael whispers and presses his forehead against Lucifer's. "I'll treasure every second we can spend together." 

For Michael expects that the peace between won't last. Violence will break out again and soon enough they'll be fighting horrendous battles again, aiming to destroy each other completely. 

"I can hear you thinking," Lucifer mumbles, still half asleep.

"I can move over, if you want," Michael offers. 

Though it's the last thing he wants, but the truth is that they aren't used to each other any more. Annoyance and desire to be left alone for a while is bound to erupt. 

Lucifer groans and shifts his body until he's on his back. Now he's able to look up to him, Michael is still propped up on one elbow, the younger archangel says, "What use would it be? Your grace has been acting up the entire time. I can feel that even in my sleep. Are you already horny again?" 

Yes, Michael wants to say, but that's not the full answer. 

He shrugs, "Hell changed you. It was bound to happen. On the other hand, I was responsible for the host. Without you, father and Gabriel ... let's just say I had far more weight to carry than before." 

Lucifer's face twists into something ugly and his grace grows cold again, like always when he gets into his rebellious mood. Although it's the first time that anger isn't directed at him. No, it's just heaven and the host Lucifer is angry with. Michael honestly doesn't know what to do with this, especially when Lucifer takes his face into his hands and drags him down to him. One long kiss later, Michael is breathless and wholly distracted. His grace in no longer violently trashing and Lucifer has that stupid, impish smile on his face that shows, why he's being dubbed the Lightbringer. For one joyous moment of exaltation it's almost as if the war and the pain that followed never happened.

What follows next, Michael can only describe as earthquake in a world that doesn't have ground.  

He's in the air before he fully realizes what's happening. Lucifer he's holding with one arm, the other grasps his sword, ready to defend them while his grace transforms into this armor. 

"Leave it, Michael," Lucifer tells him and lets go. He barely bothers to summon clothing for himself. "That's not an attack." 

"Didn't feel like it," Michael responds, still looking around. He has spend many years on the battlefield to simply trust his eyes. 

What causes him to finally relax is Lucifer's indifference. That and the fact they're alone. The cage is empty but for the two of them. Death made sure of that. 

"What was this?" Michael finally asks, unable to shake the feeling that disrupted their happy moment. "It was ... dreadful. Horrifying. Not quite a sound and yet a scream nonetheless."

Lucifer's eyes grow sad. Hopelessness returns, where none should be.

"It's the cage," the devil explains and points at the emptiness around them. "It doesn't allow happiness. Any blissful moment will be destroyed, joyous memories just ... fall away until nothing is left, but depression and despair."

Instinct tells him that Lucifer is right. There's no sentient being causing the pressure he's feeling. Yet the sensation of something trying to wear him down, won't leave. Michael knows, it's dangerous. On missions this is the point, where paranoia settles in. Where insanity spreads and destroys the moral.  

"I didn't design the cage this way," Michael whispers and lets his sword dissolve. "When I cast you down, I ... followed orders. Your wrath was so strong, your rebellion so incredibly successful that I fear it could only end with your death. I couldn't allow this to happened." 

"That's why you locked me away, yes," Lucifer says, but he sounds about it less bitter than Michael expected. They had ... contact before and during the apocalypse, but it's still the first time they talked about past events face to face. 

The truth is that Michael prefers this fate to the alternative. Whatever may follow, no matter what the future and the cage holds in store for them, ... he refuses to go back to the days where he had to fear of receiving a kill order from their father. Despite his loyalty to God and the Host, Michael doubts he'd have been capable of carrying out that particular command. Not without destroying himself and as horrible the wars between Heaven and Hell became, he needed Lucifer to life.

To walk free one day. That plan didn't work out the way he wanted, but at least they're together again.

"What can we do?" Michael wants to know. He's asking in a soft and gentle voice, because Lucifer is unfortunately the expert regarding the cage. "Are we to expect unimaginable torment? Do we face punishment the more we try to resist?"

"Not quite. The cage doesn't allow love," Lucifer spats out the word - as if he had to train himself out of the habit in using it at all. Self-loathing colors his voice, when he resumes, "That's we I couldn't help Sam. No matter what I did, the cage had a greater grasp on his mind than I did."

The lost and broken look in Lucifer's eyes is almost too much for Michael. But not knowing if a gentle touch would set the cage of again, he keeps his hands to himself. 

Lucifer's next move is a surprise. One moment he's radiating defiance and sorrow and the next he's kneeling in front of Michael. The older angel's breath hitches. It's been a long, long time since this image was reality and not one of his fantasies that got him through the never-ending wars in God's name. Beneath his battle armor Michael grows hard and Lucifer grins at his older brother's reaction. He slips a hand under the armor and wraps it around the shaft. 

Michael's breath hitches. Not only, because Lucifer is slowly stroking him or because the devil at his feet is so very tempting, ... it's intimate, getting in touch with each others grace like this. 

The question remains what Lucifer's behaviour has to do with their little problem about the cage. 

"We're not ordinary beings. The cage reacts to simple matters. Codewords, if you want like to call it," Lucifer answers and runs his mouth over the bulge. One long swipe with his tongue to tease his brother, a promise what he's intending to do.

In a certain kind of tone, Lucifer adds, "We just have to act clever, Sir." 

Then he waits, kneeling in front of Heaven's General in perfect obedience and Michael is reminded of very old days. They've played this game before. It's always been part of their dynamic, because it's Michael's nature to dominate and Lucifer's to outsmart his opponents. 

Well, why not? It's his idea, Michael thinks. After thousands of years trapped in the cage, Lucifer probably knows countless other way to subvert the rules. But if this is the one he prefers than Michael isn't going to stop him. 

"Get to work, Soldier," the Archangel says and makes himself comfortable as Lucifer pulls out his cock and closes his lips around it. 

Chapter Text

Figuring out how the rules proofed to be more difficult than Michael expected. Not being allowed to feel happiness, always seemed to spur them on to make the other smile. Before Lucifer would've come at him with his fists. With endless cold rage. Now they're playing an extended game of hide and seek, stealing mostly kisses from each other. Only pecks, because the cage did react every time, when one of them emitted too much happiness.

It's a cruel punishment, not being able to smile like an idiot, when he has Lucifer pressed against the wall and is sucking at his brother's neck until he's moaning. Teasing Lucifer had been once of his favourite past times.

Gracing his teeth over Lucifer's naked skin, Michael bites gently into his brother's shoulder.

"Do you remember how this all started?" Michael asks and things back to the day, millennia ago, when they first met.

"Of course I do," Lucifer gasps and grinds his ass against Michael's hips. With little success, since he's only held in place with one wing pushing them together. Since the appendage is one of Michael's outer wings, those he uses as battle armor, he can't get away. Instead it slides between his legs and gentle rubs his crotch. ""You've always been a bastard, even back then."

Michael's response is a chuckle.


In his youth they lived in a place, which is best described as celestial space station. It was big, white and located in a star system, which has long burned out by now. Michael had been one of the first children, who had been created and raised there. If it you could call it as such. Rather God had been a scientist, eager to try out the material in his hands. Beyond the initial stadium of watching life grow and make sure it could exist on its own, God never showed much interest in his work.

Oh, what the host would say if they knew that God never saw them as his children? Michael didn't think that had changed over time. Most likely God was busy in another corner of a universe, creating a new species, a new timeline or a setting that interested him. It wasn't even his fault, he just ... wasn't equipped to have such feelings. Loving his angels is something the Creator never quite managed. There were simply too many of them at one point and hence the task of looking after them had been handed over to Michael. But that had been later, much later.

No, at first Michael had been a new being, who explored the universe on his own while his father was busy.

The one, who actually watched out for him, was the Darkness. She showed him the dangerous corners and how to defend himself against threats. Sometimes Michael missed her, missed the days when life had been simpler. Today neither humans nor angels remembered even her existence. Well, given how she contributed to exactly four sentient beings in the universe, which would later be called Archangel.

God had created the distinction between the other angels, some old enough to vaguely remember the Darkness before the Light had cast her out.

Michael's world had been different from the very start. He remembers how humanity came to, how Terra first began to form and when the first life developed in its waters. It had been a miracle, watching something grow and evolve outside of Heaven, without God's direct influence.

The memory is so clear, because God explained it all to him while he forged the construct, which became Lucifer's egg. White, shining and so very big. Raphael and Gabriel and been like this as well, when they came around later, because back then the Darkness still provided the sheer amount of power God needed for their forms. After the Darkness was banished, Gods power dwindled. His designs became smaller and more detailed, because grand gestures of divinity were no longer possible.


"You were beautiful," Michael whispers in a dark voice and his grip becomes more possessive.

His hands sneak past Lucifer's outer shell, the grace crafted illusion of clothing. Michael digs deeper until his finger find a center of pleasure and wiggle around a little.

Lucifer's answering cry is the only encouragement Michael needs. In their true forms they possess only very few parts, which can't be shifted or transformed through their grace. Their solid and very physical wings, for one. Folding those away while inhabiting a vessel takes time and effort, hence why they've special needs as Archangels. Mostly their wings act as shield and while've fucked, Lucifer hasn't truly let him touch the innermost part of himself.

Where they in human form, they wouldn't have made it past making out on the couch, if Michael had to translate the stage of their relationship.

Again Michael repeated the action, losing himself in Lucifer calling out his name. Apart from trying to stab each other this was the most intimate thing they had done since the last war.

"So very beautiful," Michael growls. "And you were mine."



The Light and the Darkness had both invested a lot of power in order to make Lucifer. Unlike Michael himself, who was born out of dying sun, this new archangel would be created from collected starlight. It's the first time God allowed Michael to watch close up, how the process worked and as result Michael spend a lot of time watching the egg grow. He didn't know what would come of it or how the result would look like. God made strange decisions before as abandoning a newborn creature on a planet or in an empty realm, just see how long it would last or what would happen to it.

Some of these creatures still existed today, knowing nothing of their true origin. Others had only left descendants behind.

On bad days Michael imagines telling those arrogant pagan gods that there's no other creator in this universe than YHWH. The Light and the Darkness, though they bear many other names. Very few outsiders have managed to make something of importance. Or endurable. Not that the pagans need to know the truth. They do a fine job, relieving Michael of some work load. He has better things to do than handling humans and their afterlife. Most souls just get recycled anyway, no matter what religion they believe in.

Michael doesn't care about humans. Doesn't want to, because their souls always remind him Lucifer.

So much light and innocence, like the brother learned to love so long ago.

Chapter Text


Talking in measures of time is a little difficult, especially during his days of creation. It was a long process and he's not entirely sure from what point he possessed awareness, but one of the first things Lucifer remembers is fire. Fire like the sun. Red, dangerous and toxic for anyone who comes to close. Necessary to exist, but beautiful only from a certain point of view. 

What else Lucifer remembers from that time that Michael was big. Perhaps it's his perception, yet he can't find any other words to describe it. 

One day he tumbled out of his egg, little wings still wet and useless. Everything was bringt, dark and different. Cold, as well. Chilly, not warm and comfy as it was in his nest. Lucifer might've wailed, afraid and doubting his decision to break out of his egg. Almost instantly hands were there, scooping him up. Wings protected him from wind and other elements, while he was cradled against a broad chest. 

Lightbringer, the being called him. Morningstar. 

They touched. Lucifer bringing his little hands and his wings against the other. What struck through him was ... warmth, fire and lightening. Something deep and violent. 


Lucifer needed to know. He wanted to know. 

He had been so cold and now he wasn't anymore. Who was this? This person was warm and Lucifer liked him. He snuggled closer, content where he was. 

No need to shout, little one, the other chuckled and cradled the fledgling in his arms. But if you need my attention, call me Mikha'el. Father does. 

Who is Father? Lucifer asked the first of many, many questions. 




God named the newest addition Heylel, the Lightbearer, and he loved the younger above all other. Mikha'el was used to being ignored by his father, yet worried when the Darkness became irritated. She saw that the Light showered his newest creation with love and became jealous. Often brother and sister would fight, but they did it in private and made up every time. More often than not, it was Mika'el who looked after his little sibling.

Yet the more time they spend together, the stranger their relationship became.

Heylel was still young, smaller than him. Though soon he'd be Mikha'el's equal, unlike the other siblings Father made. Or raised like potted plants. Those fledglings were different. Smaller. Not as bright, clever and intelligent. Heylel was curious and liked exploring. Today they were visiting a dying star. 

While Heylel hadn't been able to take his eyes off it at first, he found a different object to admire after a while. By now he was able to fly on his own, but Mikha'el protected them from the radiation with his wings and Heylel noticed how beautiful he looked. How his brother simply absorbed the fire instead of getting burned by it. Everything of Mikha'el is made of fire and Heylel wants to touch it. 

He needs to. It's eating him up the longer he stares and looking away is impossible. 

"Brother?" The younger angel says. He wished he knew another word, one which fits the description better, but it suffices to get Mikha'el attention. 

"Yes, my little morningstar?" Mikha'el uses the name he gifted his brother so long ago, usually in private. 

Heylel is a little nervous, a little excited when he asks, "Can I touch you?" 

It's an odd request. Touch isn't something that usually happens among angels. Not in the way Heylel wants to. Even God only watches and admires from afar. The Lightbringer doesn't mind, when Father is watching. It's flattering and he flourishes under the attention. Father's praise is hard earned, when there are so many other projects he needs to pay attention to. The two new Archangels for instance, which are both growing quite well in their eggs. 

Heylel likes taking care of both, yet he never can get rid over the longing inside his soul. He can't stand being separated from Mikha'el so long. 

Suddenly his brother is so close that it takes his breath away. Mikha'el asks in a low, tempting voice, "Where do you want me to touch you?" 

The wings brush slightly over the most private parts Heylel possesses. Where he keeps his innermost thoughts ... and his desire for his brother. Just a single touch is enough to make him gasp. His fingers bury themselves in the tough, senseless parts of his brother's wings on his back, uses them as handle in order not to fall into the vast space of the universe, when Mikha'el does it again. 

"Please," he says, sobbing. Crying and begging, even if he doesn't know what for. It's the first time anyone has ever touched him like this. "Please, do it again." 

Mikha'el does. With a ravenous appetite, which tells the younger angel that he isn't the only one with those desires. It's a little difficult at first, because his body is still smaller than Mikha'el's. Even the exploring fingers feel big in the beginning, but they keep stroking him. Searching with patience what makes Heylel cry out and beg. It just feels so good. Far better than anything else what he ever experienced. It's even better than Father's praise and Heylel didn't think this was possible. 

"More?" Heylel demands, voice lilting it into a question. He isn't really sure how far this could go. How much more his brother able to offer. 

"Whatever you want," his brother promises. And puts his mouth on Heylel, who arches his body and chokes out Mikha'el's name. 

It's warm, it's good and perfect. Doing the thing with Mikha'el is an experience as well, because he can watch how his brother's grace flares and curls around them. If possible, Mikha'el grows bigger, darker. Hotter. His grace is brushing over Heylel's again, asking. The morningstar doesn't know what for, but he grants permission nonetheless. For a moment nothing happens. Until Mikha'el is pushing his grace into Heylel's. Entwining it so close it's impossible where one starts and where the other ends. They melt together and Heylel bucks into his brother. 

Mikha'el is enormous and overwhelming, causing his wings to flap and quiver. It burns a little, when Mikha'el shifts around, trying to find the right position. But his only thought is more. 

Does it feel good, his brother sends, because either of them is unable to talk. Heylel has been reduced to desperate moans. His older brother is so big, he's filling him out and the contact is maddening. Yet his grace refuses to yield and tries to draw Mikha'el deeper and deeper. 

Yes, Heylel finally pants, long after he came down from the high. Mikha'el is still inside him, still big. But at least he can think again. It felt like ... looking into a sun. 

"You're the lightbringer, brother," Mikha'el says. He kisses Heylel and sends a little more grace through their connection. Perhaps it's a little too much, since the younger angel howls, but judging from the way he writhes and opens up it's not from pain. 

Definitely not pain, Mikha'el concludes as he explores as the way how he can love his morningstar. 

Chapter Text

Over time heaven grows bigger and life develops some sort of order. Mostly God is still busy creating, while Gabriel and Raphael assist him very often. Lucifer has been tasked to watch the lifeforms, planets or other creations which hold promise to become something more. It's a fascinating task, though Lucifer mourns the fact that Michael can't come with him anymore. For Michael is buried in work, trying to keep Heaven afloat. The Darkness hasn't been seen for a while, but that's nothing unusual. She often vanishes over long periods of time, she's going to return soon enough.

Yet it's the sheer number of angels, which threaten to grow over Michael's head. There're still new ones popping up and they all need to be given a name. A purpose.

Michael robes the other Archangels into helping him the task. Everyone gets a batch of angels under him and it would be nice if they had something to do.

Lucifer is amused how Michael growls and restructures Heaven one day, because the old one doesn't suit is needs anymore.

When they finally have a minute for themselves, Lucifer joins Michael in his bed. While they don't need to sleep, it's nice to get some rest. Especially since there's always someone, who needs Michael's attention in some very urgent matter. Lately they talked about creating ranks. A hierarchy or else their siblings would keep knocking on Michael's door until the universe burned out.

"Michael, it's been a while since we were together like this," Lucifer purrs and crawls on top his brother.

The oldest archangel only raises an eyebrow in quiet amusement. He looks edible like this, laying on his back with his arms folded behind his head. It doesn't help that Michael is barely dressed as well, has forgone the usual robes that hide his magnificence, because he got tired of the admiring looks. What he had with Lucifer was private and Michael refused to share.

Lucifer growls at the sight, hunger and greed spreading fast through his veins.

He leans down to kiss Michael, hot and heavy. His brother chuckles, which only makes Lucifer want him more. Michael is still so much bigger and more confident than him, it dazzles Lucifer sometimes that his brother hasn't grown tired of him yet. Seeing him like this, completely at ease, which no other angel is allowed, draws Lucifer to his older siblings again and again. Brushing away the lower half of his robes, Lucifer grinds down and moans slightly when Michael raises his hips and rubs their groins together.

"It seems that you want something from me," Michael says casually ofand grabs Lucifer by his hips. "So why you don't take care of yourself and let me watch?"

Lucifer moans as he gets what Michael wants. Filled with the desire to finally be with Michael again after such a long time apart, he reaches down and prepares himself with his fingers. It's been a while, so he's tight and it hurts a little when his fingers meet his most sensitive parts. No one but Michael has touched him like this, never. A low groan makes him raise his head and Lucifer meets Michael's heated gaze, which is fixed on the part where his brother's hand vanishes between his legs.

"It was lonely without you," Lucifer pants and he bends back a little, places his free hand on Michael's muscled thigh for support. "I wanted to feel you again."

Lucifer's breath hitches, when Michael holds his gaze as he opens his pants and frees his hard cock. It's just as beautiful as he imagined it, when the mission grew longer and longer. Reminded of their time apart, Lucifer now hurries to finally fulfill the fantasies he haboured. Having Michael under him, waiting and panting, because his brother couldn't keep his eyes away from the spot where his fingers vanished into his own willing body, was the best of all in creation.

Withdrawing his fingers, Lucifer wraps them around Michael's hard shaft and positions himself over it.

"Yes," Lucifer hisses as the end slides into him and Michael's grip becomes bruising. Forces him to take everything at once and Lucifer LPshudders when Michael's hardness fills him out.

"Seven hells, it's been too long," he says and begins to moves not caring about adjusting first to Michael's considerable length.

"Easy, Morningstar," Michael's soothing voice washes over him, keeping the pace slow by fucking slowly in and out of his brother. "We have time. Let me watch."

Despite the intense need to ride Michael fast and hard, Lucifer complies. With a groan he settles on Michael's hips, taking the cock deeper into him. For a moment Lucifer enjoys just the feeling of Michael impaling him, breaching barriers Lucifer doesn't even show anyone else and while his brother might look composed, the hot and pulsating rubbing against his walls tells a different story.

Its proof of how much Michael wants this as well, despite his cool demeanour.

"Oh, I could do this all day," Lucifer says as he moves his hips in small cricles, clenching around the cock inside him. It almost seems as it grows even bigger.

Something flickers over Michael's face and while his hands travel to Lucifer ass to grab the cheeks thight and firm, he doesn't go into his usual wild and impatient mood where he holds Lucifer down and fucks him so hard that his ass burns for an eternity after that.

"You... okay?" Lucifer manages to say while his breathing becomes ragged. Riding Michael like this is glorious, but the lack of participation bothers him a little.

Since Father tasked him with watching over a young blue race at the other side of the universe, he hadn't much time to interact with Michael. Sometimes years go by without them having some time for themselves.

"I got injuried a while ago," Michael finally admits. "I was told to rest and heal up."

"You should have said something," Lucifer tries to snarl, but the moment he chooses to slow down Michael decides to wrap his fingers around the throbbing member they ignored so far.

"Fuck," Lucifer whines and nearly doubles over. When his hands hit Michael's broad chest in an attempt to hold himself upright, he senses the bleeding wound beneath the surface. "Fuck, Michael, why did you say anything?"

"I'm not that fragile," Michael answers and strokes Lucifer's flushed member with his fingers. "Besides it's a good distraction."

From the pain.

Michael doesn't need to say it, Lucifer can guess them anyway. When he concentrates, he can feel the full pain coming from Michael and since they are Archangels, there's little what the healers can do for Heaven's General. They simply possess too much engery and are often forced to heal themselves. Father rarely intervenes to repair them, when they gut hurt. Too much effort, since they are all very complex creatures.

What worries Lucifer is that his lover is still healing, despite the fact that the wound is already months old. What is strong enough to attack Michael, the strongest of them, in such a manner that he actually chose to rest instead of pulling through like he always does.

Perhaps it'd be wiser to stop, but Lucifer is too close to truly consider that as option. Besides he trust his brother to be honest with him, if it gets too much.

"Is this alright?" He asks and chooses a leisure pace, riding on a wave of pleasure and low desperation.

"Perfect," Michael whispers as he pulls Lucifer down, grabs a fist full of his hair and breathes into his mouth.

It makes a angle a little acome bet but Lucifer doesn't stop slowly rotating his hips. Michael is still inside him and that is all what matters. Especially when the fingers scratching his thighs tell him that Michael missed just as badly. In the end it's hard to tell how long they kept doing this, Lucifer riding his brother until they're both high strung with lust.

Finally Lucifer let's himself fall back against Michael's chest, heaving because he ended up showing off his back to Michael, wings spread wide and quivering as the orgsam rules through him.

Michael makes a pleasant sound, rumbling in his chest as he rubs Lucifer's stomach.

There's drying come between his legs, sticking to the sheets and his own stomach his covered in it as well, but Lucifer still doesn't want to move. Being with Michael like this is a state of pure bliss.

The Morningstar sighs when Michael presses a kiss against the bare skin of his neck.

Chapter Text

The bliss ends when Lucifer finally learns how Michael got injured. Although his brother doesn't want to confess, he finally has to when the wound refuses to heal and not even Raphael can do something. 

"SHE did this to you?" Lucifer roars with white burning rage, that lights up entire star systems. "How could she? And why haven't you bloody said anything?" 

Michael shrugs and stays silent. By now it's obvious that the darkness inflicted the wound on him and a lesser being probably would have perished. Only Michael's relentless determination keeps him upright, feeds the dark with his fire. But it costs him strength and Lucifer is afraid he'll lose the battle. 

"She was angry at the Creator," Michael finally says, and only because he can sense God listening in. "I'm not sure if I was the intended target or if I was just a convenient outlet for fury. You know how she is." 

The sadness in his brother's voice is what threatens to ripe Lucifer's heart out of his chest. Michael would never say it, but he's the one who is close to The Darkness. At least, they once had a deep connection with each other. Michael's wild fire, fueled by the million suns of the universe gets along with The Darkness' more destructive side. Yet lately they barely talked to each other,  Lucifer remembers. 

Concerned for his brother, Lucifer breaches the subject next time he's alone with his father. They're working on a new race, something with teeth and closer to the angels, then all other planet bound creatures. God wants something more. Not just an animal, but he has yet to produce a result, which satisfies him. Lucifer can sense his Father watching him as he uses his power and his creativity to shape the first few designs. Michael doesn't like it. Lucifer can't tell why, but Michael never gets truly comfortable while Father is around. Though Lucifer knows that Michael is a private person. He opens up far more, when they're alone together. Perhaps it's similar, when Michael is alone with Father. 

Personally he doesn't mind the admiring gaze God sends him, when Lucifer is done. Pride fills him, makes him light up from the inside, when God tells him he'll use this particular design for the final draft. Lucifer smiles, pleased with himself. He has been working a lot with Father lately, who asks for his input more and more often. Since it's an easy and pleasurable task, Lucifer doesn't mind it. Especially not, since he gets lots of praise out of it.

"Well done," the Light praises him and Lucifer can't help but send God a dazzling grin. "My son, you're a marvel. Your abilities in creating something out of nothing might even match mine one day."

"Such kind words for me, Father. You've just taught me well," Lucifer says and can't help the arrogant smirk that appears on his face. "But since I've your undivided attention, may I ask why your dear sister is throwing fits again? Recently she attacked Michael and his wound still hasn't healed yet. He says it's nothing, but I'm afraid that it bothers him to a great deal."

Suddenly God is silent. He rarely takes a physical form, is just a grand presence of light among the stars, but Lucifer can feel the tremors going through him nonetheless. Thanks to their projects together, Lucifer noticed that Father had less and less contact with his sister recently. In fact, they barely talked to each other anymore. The Darkness hasn't shown her face in Heaven in centuries. For her taste, the angels produced too much light. Are too much like their Father and Creator to become truly comfortable around them. Lucifer doesn't know what she has been doing all this time, but it worries him that she attacks the one person she probably loved most.  

Lucifer tells God this much and blinks in surprise, when Father trembles in rage and summons Michael in the next breath. 




Since God's summon could be hear through the entire galaxy, it's not just Michael who appears. Gabriel and Raphael stand next to him, when God towers above them and demands from Michael to say the truth. Lucifer watches Father and Son argue back and forth. The longer it goes on, the more it looks as if Michael is protecting the darkness. 

"Yes, she attacked me," Michael is finally forced to say, after God's wrath washed over the four of them. "But she didn't mean it. It was an accident." 

He refuses to say more, but Lucifer is concerned enough that he doesn't stop Father, when he demands from Michael to reveal the wound. They all witness how Michael pulls a face, a rare show of displeasure in public. Lucifer knows it's because Michael thinks himself as the responsible one, who rarely looks after his own needs ever since he acquired to many younger siblings. It doesn't occur to Lucifer that Raphael and Gabriel see this display as an act of misplaced pride. 

Yet he doesn't have eyes for the two other archangels anyway. They're all staring at the huge, ugly wound over Michael's grace. Long slashes, like claws that were drenched in poison. It looks painful, it has to be. Lucifer can't tear his eyes away as he stares at his brother, standing naked in the throne room. 

"She should pay for this," Lucifer spats and is surprised by his own voice. He sounds bitter, angry and vicious. Large parts are directed at the Darkness. Another part hates Michael, for hiding this from him. 

Michael, the perfect image of nonchalance. Michael, who only shrugs. Which makes Lucifer even more angry. 

"I'm deeply concerned as well, Lucifer," God says as he reaches out to Michael with his power and heals the wound. Michael flinches under the contact, but he doesn't say anything. "A lesser being might have not fared to well. My sister is powerful and if she harbours a grudge against my children, then we need to take care of this." 




It takes thousands of years of course, but for the archangels it seems as if the war between the Creator and the Darkness breaks out over night. Swift, sudden and very violent. Later it's mostly Raphael and Gabriel, who recount the tales since Lucifer is gone and Michael silent on the matter. In fact, Michael hardly says nothing at all. After the first very loud argument between God and the the Darkness, which only Michael was privy to, war broke out. It's the first war the universe ever witnesses and the magnitude of it destroys planets and star systems. Many races die, most simply being too young and too fragile to survive as the balance between Light and Dark starts to shift.

Michael seems to be indifferent to everything. He even invites Lucifer to his bed less and less. When Lucifer brings his concerns to God, the creator looks worried.

"Perhaps she affected him. She had a hand in his creation after all," the Creator muses. "It makes me glad that you're born from mostly my own power."  

Lucifer doesn't know what to make of this, but at this point it makes sense. The Darkness has turned to attacking all over them, whenever she can and Lucifer turned out to be the least affected by her presence. 

It's only when she invades Heaven and slaughters most of the younger angels, Michael starts fighting back. 



Michael is covered in blood. His grace is so hot, that it burns until flames rise up the sky. They're all watching, at least mildly terrified as Michael drives the darkness back. They crafted a cage, a core that will hold the Darkness. An empty rock at will keep her trapped. It's a rather permanent solution, necessary after the Darkness ripped the younger angels apart. There're only very few of them left, but at least the end is nigh.

Lucifer watches from afar how Michael battles the Darkness. They're locked in a dance, beautiful and it seems to last forever. He tells himself it's necessary, when Michael shoves the Darkness over the threshold and Lucifer activates the spell that traps her. If they're exchanging words, then it's too quiet for anyone but Michael and the Darkness to hear it. Lucifer can't even discern the expression on Michael's face, when the doors slams shut and the Darkness is gone. Banished forever. 

A key is crafted and God burns it into Lucifer's form, not trusting Michael to do it after it took him so long to throw his entire power into the war. At first Lucifer is proud to bear the mark. If this his task, it means that Michael doesn't have to share the burden with him. Despite their lack of contact recently, Lucifer still loves Michael. Loves him enough than he wants nothing to crawl into Michael's bed and press himself against the warm, burning grace. 

Yet when Michael spots the mark on his brother, he turns his eyes away. Something akin to hate and disgust simmers in his eyes and Lucifer's grace turns cold.  




It doesn't take long before Lucifer loses his patience with Michael and slams him against the next available surface. 

"You're not running away from me," the Morningstar screams and claws into Michael. 

They fuck, but it's not the same. It's never going to be the same again. 


Chapter Text

It's not a surprise that they end up fighting again. Between the cage and the memories it dragged up, they were bound to use violence on each other again and it's easy to fall back into old habits. Right now Lucifer is tearing into Michael, throwing all his renewed anger at him. He snarls, uses his fists to make Michael bleed and screams, when his efforts don't have the desired effect.

"I hate you. I hate you so much, Michael," Lucifer roars. "Have you assumed we're alright again, just because you fucked me once or twice? You're still nothing more than a mistake." 

Lucifer's fist connects with Michael's face and the older Archangel spat out blood. Yet the words hurt far more than the blow itself. Far more than they should, but after getting a taste of how things used to be, every angry word out of Lucifer's mouth reminds him how they ended up here in the first place. 

With a growl, Michael grabs his brother's wrist and hurls him around. He has too much practice to be beaten like that. Lucifer is clever, used to outsmart him, since he knows he can't beat Michael in a fair fight. 

"Liar," Michael hisses and his fingers bury themselves in the thick feathers of Lucifer's wings. "This is far from over."

His brother cries out, more out of anger than out of pain, but this isn't the way Michael imagined to get himself reacquainted with the wings of his lover. Grooming each other used to be a sign of trust among angels. Nowadays the habit is frowned upon. They're soldiers, warriors. They don't have to look beautiful while smiting demons. Michael admits that this kind of reasoning partly exists, because he never managed to let anyone do this after Lucifer left. 

"M-Michael," Lucifer stutters and goes limb. He could get away with a bit of effort, but Michael touching his wings feels too good. 

It's been ages since someone did this for him and Lucifer remembers how pleasurable this can be. Hell, there used to be a time, when he could render Michael into a moaning, sobbing mess just with a few strokes beneath the outer layers. It would be so easy for Michael to do the same. All his brother has to do, is to shove the hard long feathers aside that act as shell and shield in a fight. It'd be a violation, going for that without permission but Lucifer is already getting hard again and certainly wouldn't protest against Michael just taking what used to be his. 

Yet the oldest Archangel surprises Lucifer by letting him go. 

"Have you gone mad?" Lucifer asks, questioning Michael's sanity by given up such an advantage. "You won't get another chance. If you wanted to humiliate me, this would've been the way to go." 

Anger flickers over Michael's face. It's the first in a long time Lucifer sees a crack in his brother's famous armor. Gone is the stone cold face, the empty eyes holding no emotions. Instead Lucifer sees rage, the holy fire that drew him to Michael so long ago... and pain. That is a surprise, kind of. While Lucifer hoped that their war didn't leave Michael unaffected, but until now he hadn't been sure. 

Showing emotions long stopped being Michael's thing. 

"You deserved to be punished Lucifer," Michael trembles and there's so much power behind his voice that even the cage releases its hold on them for a moment. "The time down here made you callous and cruel. That you expect me to use force on you in such a manner is testament how far you from the person you used to be, but I still believe you can be better than this. That you are better than this." 

"Who are you to lecture me?" Lucifer screams back and in the next moment he's launching himself at Michael again. 

Perhaps it'd have been tactically better to stay away, calm down and think of a better strategy, but Lucifer just ... can't. Michael's prolonged presence is messing with his head. He dreamed of the past before, when he was alone in the cage. Yet it was never like this. This raw and painful, but since kicking, hitting and screaming doesn't work, because Michael just stands there and takes it ... Lucifer goes back using the only weapon he knows that works. 

He doesn't want to, he knows how destructive this is, but he can't help himself as he jumps Michael to kiss him. It's all teeth, tongue and biting each other, but oh fuck it's good. Lucifer moans when Michael's teeth break through his skin and blood trickles down his neck. Hands settle on his ass, grab it tight to draw him back in again and again. 

"I should hold you down and spank you until you confess your sins," Michael growls as Lucifer keeps humping his leg, hard and intend to get off. Perhaps he can't deny the attraction between them, but no one said Lucifer had to be gentle about it. Yet Michael's words go straight to his gut and make his cock twitch. Lucifer tries and fails to suppress the whine that escapes his mouth, when Michael wraps his hand around his hard shaft. It's wet, leaking pre-come. "But it seems you'd just find a way to enjoy it, if I tried to discipline you." 

For some reason, the words make his face burn and Lucifer kisses Michael again, hard and desperate, to hide his embarrassment. He does his best to appear angry, scratches lines into Michael's skin with his fingers until his brother bleeds, because he doesn't want him to know how much this prospect appeals to him. Lucifer would never apologize and bow his head before his father again, but Michael is so much better. 

Michael is worthy of being worshipped. There was a time, when Lucifer freely admitted this.

It's frightening that he'd do it again in a heartbeat, no matter how much time has passed since then.

There must be something in his expression that betrays his thoughts, because Michael inhales sharply. It's not a surprise that the next kiss is slow and torturous, while Michael tugs at Lucifer's hair and claims his mouth. The devil follows the lead, because ... why not? Breaking away would just delay the inevitable. Besides if he does this right and enjoys himself, than Michael is going to completely miss the point in trying to punish him.

"I know what you're thinking." Lucifer shudders as Michael murmurs against his skin and squeezes his ass on purpose. "Let's see if I can make you beg like you used to. Or have you forgotten that's not the first time of me having to discipline you?"  

"No, I've not," Lucifer smirks falls, when he thinks back.

What the period what the lesser angels called The Fall didn't hold exactly the most pleasant memories for Lucifer, but it hadn't been all bad.  

It had been worse. 


Chapter Text

"I should flog you for your disrespecting behavior," Michael hollers and Lucifer knows his brother isn't speaking about the fun version, they include in their games from time to time. 

Well, not so much, anymore. Ever since the Darkness has been locked away, Michael drew away from him. There was a time, when Michael would've bend Lucifer over his desk to vent his anger and afterwards they've talked it out. But no, as Lucifer studies his lover, beautiful as ever despite the rage behind his eyes, it's unlikely to happen. They haven't shared a bed in a long, long time. Since Michael isn't offering an explanation, Lucifer guesses it's his fault. 

He balls his hands to fists and fights the urge to spread his wings, asking his brother what's wrong with him that he isn't worth looking at anymore. 

"I bet, you'd enjoy having more blood on your hands," Lucifer can't help, but taunt his brother. 

Michael bares his teeth, growls and though they've taken a more humanoid form in order not to scare father's new creations, it's wise to remember that they aren't human. Michael least of all, because his teeth are sharp and his hands bend into claws for a moment, while he lights up inside. They leave scratch marks on the desk and Lucifer enjoys the sight of seeing Michael like this. It means, he still gets under his skin, despite the fact they're drifting apart. He doesn't have to like it, Michael's temper is always a sign of how stressed he is, but Lucifer can't care about it. 

Not, when anger is the only kind of attention Michael believes Lucifer is still worthy off. 

"Lucifer, I'm not happy with the Creator's new experiments either," Michael finally says, sighing and looking tired. "I know that these humans aren't like us, but he'll get over it soon enough. Can't you just ignore them instead of making such a ruckus about it?" 

"I don't even know what you're talking about," Lucifer hisses and steps closer. He wants Michael to feel how angry he's. First Michael stops looking at him and now Father discards him as well. "All I did was talk a bit to the woman. It's not my fault that she grew a spine after that. Besides she accused Adam of forcing himself on her. Should I have just let it go?" 

"Of course not, though I find it difficult to believe that Lilith knew exactly what she was talking about. That's something you put into her head, the humans are little more than animals, procreation is something all races have to do in order to survive and it's not always nice and gentle. They don't know what love is." 

True enough, Lilith hadn't known what happened between her and the male human before. At first Lucifer just intended to sate his curiosity, but he found the female surprisingly intelligent. Self-aware even and when she asked if it's normal for Adam to come to her bed, whenever she wanted his attention or not, Lucifer gave her a word to these feelings. Perhaps it had overdone it a bit, but he wanted to see if she and Adam would talk it out.

Yet in the end, there still little more than pets. Father had intervened, when Lilith proved herself unwilling and banished her to a nearby planet. from Heaven. Lucifer had taken her back to planet, where God had picked up the hairless apes in the first place, and granted her enough power to survive on her own. 

Perhaps he'd go back soon, check up on Lilith to see how she fared alone. 

But of course, Michael isn't happy about it. To Lucifer's surprise Michael actually agreed with Father for once, something he rarely does. 

The Mark throbs as he bends forwards, bringing his and Michael's face together until the warm breath of his lover ghosts over his skin. Even if Michael pulls away, it's more than Lucifer had in the entire last decade. 

"Have you forgotten, Michael? Love is a lie. If Father can't figure it out, if Father can banish and live without his own fucking Sister, than what hope do we have?" Lucifer buries his fingers in Michael's dark hair, tugs at it until it has to hurt, but his brother barely makes a sound. The younger Archangel hisses quietly, "We're angels, Michael. We can't have children, so what excuse do you have for all the hours we spend together? Don't tell me, it's because of some gentle feelings in your black, stone-cold heart."

It's mostly anger that pours from Lucifer's lips. Pain, because Michael ignored him ever since he took on the Mark. Father is far too preoccupied with his new pets, and claims they're his best invention so far. That everyone should love these humans. Lucifer hates them. Best would be to get rid of them, but now there's a fucking guard in front of the gate. Father is intend on protecting his precious little human, probably already on it in making more. 

But that doesn't matter, when Michael snaps and pushes Lucifer to the ground. Apparently bending him over the desk isn't enough, but Lucifer isn't picky at this point. He'll take whatever he can get. Even if he hates himself a little for the moan that escapes him, when Michael opens his pants carefully. Almost gentle and fuck that's not what Lucifer wants right now. 

Michael doesn't have the right to make love to him, after they haven't shared a bed in decades. 

"Come on, brother. You've done far worse to me in the past," Lucifer snarls and spreads his legs, knowing far too well how to get Michael desperate. "Show me that we're better than these animals. Show me what nice and gentle truly looks like, since you're apparently the expert." 

His words are contradicting, but Lucifer doesn't know what he want for himself. Truth is that Michael is never gentle and Lucifer would rip out his wings, if he starts now. Michael is far too though, too strong and too powerful to feel anything, if violence isn't a part of their coupling. Lucifer wants to feel it, especially now. He wants it to last, to experience the burn for days after. Unfortunately this is the one time, where Michael refuses to give him what he wants. 

Lucifer expects many thing, but not for Michael to crawl on top of him, reaching for his brother's hard shaft and guiding the tip inside himself. 

"No, no, I want you to fuck me. No the other way around," Lucifer moans and arches his back, trying to get away, but ends up only sinking deeper into Michael.

"Too bad that I'm not giving you a choice," Michael murmurs, while he starts riding Lucifer. Who quickly notices that Michael still has all the control. 

His brother's grace is binding him to the floor, keeping him down until it's impossible to move, impossible to cant up his hips even a little and Michael ... decides to take his time. Of all days, when Lucifer just wants it rough, fast and violent, Michael does it slow. For a while he just sits there, lets gravity do it's work, while his mouth keeps sucking marks on Lucifer's skin. Though Lucifer is riding waves of pleasure, being completely at Michael's mercy in a entirely different way, he notices that Michael doesn't touch the mark. Not even once, though the brand is huge and visible enough.

It's good, it's insane and perfect.

It still feels like a betrayal, when Lucifer is finally allowed to come, sobbing Michael's name while giving up a part of himself. It feels final, the way Michael kisses him, long and breathtaking.

Perhaps it's the fact that Michael remains quiet afterwards. Just gets up and dresses himself, while Lucifer lays naked on the ground, panting. There's a moment, when they look at each other. A moment, where Michael's eyes aren't dark and empty. A moment, where Lucifer forgets that things have changed between them and he still believes that they can salvage this. 

"I need to speak to Raphael," Michael finally says and walks out of the door. "It's important. I'll see you later." 

No word of their fight earlier and after Michael is gone, Lucifer realizes that his brother thinks that he can't change his mind anyway. Michael believes, it isn't worth trying. 

If Lucifer wants to curl himself into a ball, hiding inside his wings to shed a few tears, then there's no one around to decipher the expression on his face. Though after a while the pain turns into anger anyway, leaving Lucifer furious and humiliated. 



Chapter Text

Michael is tense, when he finally meets up with Raphael. Since Lilith was banished, the Creator had been busy making a new wife for Adam and both of them had watched closely how she was brought into shape. More so, than with the male human Adam, since Eve would possess the ability to bear children. It hadn't been easy, earning the Creator's trust in order to be able to watch every single experiment. Whether it be a failure or a success. It had been tiring, feigning interest for a single species for so long. By now Michael knew a lot about humans and father's glorious plans for them, but Michael lacked the actual excitement, when would've made the entire endeavour worthwhile.

Right now Gabriel seems to be the only one, who's honestly interested. Well, good for Michael. He has other things to worry about.

Lucifer creating unrest among the angels, being one of them.

The Archangel sighs, wishes he had the time to take properly take care of his lover. Of course he noticed the distance between them and Michael misses him every single day. Every minute he could not spend at his side, wrapped up in his grace, was agony. Even the bond they once shared, had fallen quiet. Instead of using it, Lucifer used every opportunity coming his way to get Michael's attention. Probably hoping his lover would come running sooner or later, he created a mess, which was large enough for only Michael be able to deal with.

"Have you talked to Lucifer?" Raphael asks, when he entered the room. "Did you two sorted it out? It's a hassle, watching Lucifer mope like that."

Michael shrugs, "Not really. As much as I want to, I'm not sure how much influence the mark has over him."

"I can't say that I've spend enough time with him recently in order to judge that fairly," Raphael comments and raises an eyebrow, when Michael scratches his stomach. Again. He has done this at least three times already in the last five minutes. "It's difficult to say if the mark is changing him or just boosting what's already there."

"The latter probably," Michael answers honestly.

He's not so blind that he can claim that Lucifer would never act like does recently. His little brother has always been a little shit and Michael usually enjoys putting him back into place. But with their lack of communication he doesn't know, if Lucifer will listen to him. Or remain in long place long enough for Michael to get out, what he has to say.

Even it's just an apology. Lucifer deserves that much.

"Damned, this itches," Michael mumbles under his breath and scratches his stomach again.

His wings shuffle around a little, while he tries to settle again. Get comfortable, but it doesn't really want to work. There's the stinging feeling in his grace, like it's trying to make space for something. Usually Michael only experiences this, when he has been wounded and his grace works on getting rid of any contaminant.

Since Raphael has fallen silent, Michael lifts his head in order to ask what's the matter with him. Raphael's wide eyes and his shocked expression indicate that something is wrong.

"Did it work?" Raphael whispers, as if he's afraid that someone could overhear them. "Michael, did it truly work?"

For a moment Michael doesn't get, what his brother means until he follows the finger pointing to his stomach.

Then he remembers the plan he and Raphael once discussed, when the Creator started to focus more and more on the humans. Leaving the angel to fend for themselves, reaching the point, where Michael worried for the future of their race. Most angel see God at their father, as the powerful being that created them and the universe. They don't get that God never had much interest in them. Without the Darkness at his side, God is bound to get distracted. One day he'll just get up and leave, not bothering to check what happens his former creations.

For God, Angels are too focused and too universal to keep his interest. They make good soldiers, because they're resilent, have a various set of abilities and live long. They're the perfect messengers, since they can model their bodies after what ever species they're charged to observe. But that's it. Outside of it, God never held much interest in caring for them.

So Michael asked Raphael if it were possible for angels to make more members of their race. In whatever form it had to happen, it'd be likely that they'd need the knowledge one day.

"Oh," the oldest Archangel makes a small noise and puts a hand on his stomach. "That actually explains a lot."

They had talked about the theory behind, while observing Lilith how she got pregnant and gave birth. They calculated, what a angel would need, how the young had to be build in order to survive. Both of them had raised enough of God's creations, little angels among them, to have a good grasp on how to create a new life. Of course, they had to do it quietly. The Creator guarded the secrets of his work fiercely and would punish both of them, if he ever learned of their plans.

The main reason, why Michael had drawn away from Lucifer. His lover was too fiery, too possessive and too passionate to remain quiet about this. No matter if he accepted the child or refused to acknowledge his existence, because he didn't want to share Michael's attention with anyone else. Not to mention that the news would spread fast, create rumors and unrest. Raise questions. Sooner of later the Creator would learn about the child and Michael couldn't let that happen.

"Michael, are you crying?" Raphael's voice cuts through the storm of his turbulent thoughts.

Taking a shaky breath, Michael tries to focus on the present, while trying to let go of the pain that he could never tell Lucifer about this. Not anytime soon, if ever.

"We need to keep this a secret," Michael says quietly. "This needs to stay between us, Raphael."

"Of course," his brother answers with a huff. "Let's meet later so that I can take a proper look at you."

After Raphael has left, Michael reaches inside of himself. After a little careful prodding, he can feel the little spark. Bright and intelligent. The little one is currently tugging at Michael's grace, trying to build a nest of some sort, where it feels protected. It's a small part of Lucifer, which Michael took so de

Chapter Text

Though Raphael regularly checked his condition, Michael mostly keeps to himself. He's paranoid about the life inside him. The Creator always jealously guarded his secrets and it wasn't easy for Michael to figure out how to do it on his own. Of course he could've managed to make the fledgling outside of his body, but the growing process is a delicate one. Angels are tough creatures, the Creator crafted them to be durable and adaptable, but until they reached the point where they can survive on their own, the little ones are especially vulnerable.

Michael can't remember his own childhood, if he ever had one, but the little one inside him is not allowed to come to harm.

It's already very smart, Michael quickly realizes. The little one is barely present as long as Michael has company. It hides deep in his grace, untrackable as long as other angels are around. When Michael stand before the Creator he even forgets that the child exists.

Only when they're alone, it comes to live. It kicks and tugs, wants attention until Michael gives in and stops whatever he's doing in order to please his offspring. But that's an easy task. Michael pours his entire love into the hours he spends with the little one. He gives him strength and knowledge, makes him durable in case he ever gets into trouble.

The only downside of this wonder is that he has to avoid Lucifer. In part, because he can trust no one until the little one is born and grown up. God's wrath would be terrible, if he ever finds out and Michael can't stand the idea of loosing the little one. Best, he keeps it a secret. Even from Lucifer.

Especially from Lucifer, since his brother has become jealous and angry. He creates more and more trouble within Heaven, has already angered God by tempting Adam and Eve until they were cast out. Michael likes to think it's the mark, he wants to blame it and its influence. He can't explain the changes in Lucifer otherwise.

One late evening, after another short but horrible fight with Lucifer, Michael realizes it's going to end soon. He can't even look at Lucifer anymore without getting angry. He's not the person he used to be and the sight alone makes Michael furious. At Lucifer, for changing and not being able to resist the mark. At God, for doing nothing. At the Darkness, for causing the dilemma in the first place.  

"I hoped you could meet your father before you're born," Michael whispers to the little one.

Right now he doubts if he can ever tell Lucifer about their child. In the state Lucifer is in, Michael can't predict what he's going to do. Attack him? Attack heaven? He has done both already. It wouldn't take much to push Lucifer over the edge. And Michael can't fight in this state. Not anymore. He can't protect himself and the little one. It would take too much power, escpecially against Lucifer.

Michael is alone among the stars, waiting and standing in darkness. A tiny part of him hopes that Lucifer is going to come. He's not exactly hiding. His power is too obvious, too vast to be ignored. But Lucifer doesn't come. Michael waits and waits.

Until it's too late. The child has to be born and he has to do it alone.



"Well, perhaps it's for the best that no one is going to witness this," Michael tells himself, before he places his hands on the stomach.


There's no handbook to go by, no rules to read up. All Michael has is countless hours of watching animals give birth. That and his confidence.

A scream echos through the universe, when he plungs his hands into himself. Angels aren't made to procrate. Getting the child inside was difficult enough. Letting it grow as well, though that part is familiar at least. Archangels are almost immortal. When they die, their grace explodes, but it doesn't vanish. Over the thousands of years each of them had to start at the beginning once or twice. Put themselves back together.

Adapting the process for a grace made up from his own and Lucifer's was simple enough.

What Michael hadn't thought about, was getting the child out.


Later, much later, Michael has blood on his hands. On his wings as well. He must look horrible. He's exhausted and very, very tired. The suns around him burn, their storms and flares pass through him and light up his wings as they absorb the power. For a long time, Michael just sits in space, hoarse from screaming because he had to cut himself open in order to get the child out unharmed. As much as he wants to go to sleep and never wake up again, the sight of the fledgling in his hands stops him.

"You're beautiful," Michael whispers, unable to stop the tears in his eyes. "Like your father. You're so bright."

He truly is. The little one is barely more than a ball of light in his palms, but he's there. And he's perfect.

Michael knows he has never loved something so much. The day he met Lucifer is the only thing that compares. They looked the same. Bright, a mix of white and blue. Like Lucifer back then, the little fledgling stares at him with awe and wonder. Tries to reach for Michael, who bends his wings until the little fledgling is cradled between them. He's safe. Nothing can harm him here and Michael contemplates of staying here. Running away from heaven with nothing more than the child in his arms.

Too bad it won't work. He can't hide. Not from God. Not from Lucifer. They will find him, sooner or later.

And they would blame Castiel. Both of them.


Michael repeats the name. It sounds right. It's strong. Connected to all living creatures, all those that move. Michael knows that his child will be assigned to a specific task, day or star. It's the way of the angels to keep track of each other. With a bit of caution, Michael gazes into the future. Castiel's position isn't going to be grand, but it's dependable. Secure.

His child is going to be safe.

Michael has to fight the tears that threaten to overwhelm him. His little one is craddled in his arms, so bright and innocent. But it's the only time he'll be able to hold him.

I can't keep you, Michael thinks and his wings quiver with pain. Suns react to his anguish, but there's nothing he can do. There's nothing anyone can do. No one is allowed to know, what I did. God would destroy you. So would Lucifer. Your siblings would hate you. You would be alone.

The future flashes in front of him. Michael sees Castiel at his side, proud and arrogant. Alone, because his agemates are too jealous to connect with him. Lucifer swings between hate and love, hurt by the fact that Michael kept this from him. Claims sometimes that Michael did this without his consent and uses the fact as leverage. The future isn't written in stone, but this way isn't the solution to all of Michael's problems. If he reveals Castiel's parentage too early, the Creator is going to turn on him. On them.

God would kill Castiel, branding him as abnomination. Followed by Michael, because he rebelled. Lucifer too, because the Morningstar no longer has the Creator's favor and acted out too often in the past.

Raphael and Gabriel would suffer as well. Smote, because they're the oldest Archangels after Michael and Lucifer. There're others, of course. But those four were the oldest, the strongest and the most important. Without them, Heaven has no future. It would crumble quickly.

"I can't," Michael chokes as he presses Castiel against his chest, ready to say goodbye. "I'm sorry, my son. But I can't keep you. I can't even love you the way you deserve. This has to be my secret. You're never going to know, what kind of power you possess. You'll never know, how kind and loving Lucifer can be. And you're possibibly never going to see me again."

At least not personally. Not up close. Castiel would grow up as a soldier, because it's the safest place to be right now.

Michael will have to stay away. Delegate the army of Heaven more than he did in the past. But there's a war brewing in the horizon anyway. Lucifer has been pushing his limits and God is losing his patience.

This could've been the happiest day in his long, eternal life, yet Michael only sees that he's powerless what is about to come.



There's nothing, what he can do.

Chapter Text

The way back seems to be the hardest thing Michael has ever done. He carefully avoids Lucifer and is actually glad that he doesn't run into him. How can he explain the state he's in, while being in company of a very young angel? Lucifer would draw his own conclusions and Michael can't have that. Not while they're all in danger.

He doesn't trust God. Michael never dared to voice the thought, not even to himself. All he had was a feeling. A sense of dread and fear, something he never has been able to explain. Yet now the circumstances have changed. He can longer afford to hesitate.

Michael looks down at the tiny being in his hands. Castiel is safe, deeply buried in his grace and protected by Michael's wings. There's nothing left in this universe, which is capable of harming the little one. Michael is going to make sure, that is never going to change. Forging a connection between him and his child might be dangerous, but Michael has so much grace at his disposal that one is going to notice it, if he donates a small share to his child.

Not too much, not so much that it's going to make other angels suspicious, but what Michael can do is make Castiel though. Difficult to kill. Michael smiles as he creates a tiny mark, a tracking spell and wraps it into the fledgling's grace, near his wings. No one is going to look there and over time Castiel's own grace is going to grow over it.

"I'm sorry that this is necessary, little one," Michael whispers and presses his son against his chest. He's so small and Michael doesn't want to let him go.

And yet ... he doesn't have a choice.

Not with God still around. Not with the Creator growing mad from loneliness.

Michael sighes. He knows the Creator better than anyone else. Banshing the Darkness helped no one in the end, but he isn't strong enough to get rid of his father. Perhsps he could've risked it, had he his brothers at his side with Lucifer at full strength. But even then it would be a close call.

Little Castiel makes a sound. His eyes flutter and he stares up at Michael. He can't talk yet. He's an infant, but he possesses enough awareness to recognize Michael as another angel. As family even, given how much time they spend together.

Wrapping his grace around his son in a protective embrace, giving Castiel warmth and love, is all what Michael can do. It's the last gift. The last time, because Heaven is approaching fast on the horizon.

Castiel chirps, for the lack of a better term and Michael knows he has to do what's necessary. Fast, or else Castiel is going to remember him, however faint and it's something he can't risk. God is already looking at everyone with suspicion, punishes those who dare to voice their opinion. After Lucifer's antics, after all the uproar he caused, being a silent and obedient soldier is the safest path right now.

Michael trembles with hate and anger every time the Creator punishes one of his siblings, but there's nothing what he can do. Not, with Lucifer not trusting him. Not with Lucifer still being under the influence of the mark. Not with Lucifer changing so fast that Michael barely recognizes him anymore.

With a deep breath, Michael flies to the Garden. Joshua is in charge and they exchange a few friendly words. Long enough that Joshua doesn't notice how one of Michael's wings drops Castiel into one of the nests. There're so many fledglings around that Joshua won't notice the difference.

It breaks Michael's heart, when he sees Castiel tumble into the nest, small wings fluttering helplessly but the impact doesn't harm him. The nest is soft and well protected. The other fledlings inside quickly draw him in, make space for a cuddle session as they sleep and feed at the same time.

One last glance is all what Michael gets, before he retreats and severs the connection.

Leaving the Garden is the hardest, what he's ever done. But it's necessary. Already Michael can feel God summoning him. The pressure of God's demanding presence reaches him, swift and fast like a blow.

Their father is angry. As usual.

Michael takes a deep breath and starts walking. As steady as possible, for there enough other angels in the corridors. A few wish to talk to him, but with practice ease, Michael ignores them. Tells them that God has summoned him and their worries have to wait. It's wrong, he knows that. God is capable of taking care of himself and his siblings shouldn't be brushed aside, but ...

... there's nothing what Michael can do.

And he hates himself for it.




He steps inside the throne room, a corner of the universe where the Creator doesn't bother to hide his true face. It feels like as if he standing inside a sun. The light hurts, now more than ever.

God rages, once again, because of something Lucifer has done. Yet Michael is barely listening. Sweat runs down his forehead and his hands tremble. His grace twists and churns, rearranging itself now after Castiel is gone. Michael realizes that he needs to rest. Take a break, but according to God he just had one.

God assumes that he's at full strength.

"Enough," God finally hollers. "Something must be done about Lucifer. He has fallen under the influence of my sister. He corrupted Lilith, seduces my loyal soldiers to fight for him and now he has approached Eve. DO SOMETHING, MIK'HAIL. I TASK YOU TO REIGN LUCIFER IN."

Michael keeps his face straight and shows no emotions as he says, "Yes, father."

He wants to hurl, crawl into a small corner and go to sleep. Forget the universe, Lucifer and his siblings for a moment. But he has to act. He's too weak to stand a chance against God right now. Not, when he's being torn apart. Not with Lucifer raging through their connection and Castiel crying in distress through another.

"I can't," Michael whispers and drags himself into his office. He's cold and empty. Tears run down his face, because nothing turned out the way he wanted.  "I can't do this any longer."

He hasn't seen Lucifer in ages, though he knows that his brother still comes back to Heaven from time to time. Sneaking in, because Lucifer is one step away from being banished and Michael doesn't know if he can survive it. He barely survived losing the Darkness, as troubling her actions had been.

Michael tries to remember the last time he was happy. Content. But he can't. He can't even tell, when Lucifer craddled in his arms the last time. It must've been ages ago. Right now Michael wants to nothing more than fall asleep and have Lucifer's wings wrapped around him. With Castiel placed on Lucifer's chest, who would make stupid cooing noises. It'd be perfect. Lucifer would smile again, like he used to.

"Perhaps having Castiel was a mistake," Michael tells himself, burying his face in his hands.

His hope was that Castiel would bring them together, that they would bond over the child. Instead they're falling apart and thinking about the little fledgling just reminds Michael what he can't have. Can never have again, if he understood the Creator correctly.

Michael is alone in his office and no one sees his tears, when he starts sobbing, cursing his life and his existence.

Chapter Text

"I hate it to be the messenger of bad news, but you look awful brother," Gabriel says, when he sees Michael the next time.

"Shut up," the oldest Archangel hisses, which makes Gabriel jerk back a little.

It's not often that Michael looses his temper, he used to be the patient and the understanding one. Lately the oldest angel had been on edge and if weren't for his truly bad condition, Gabriel would've backed out immediately. The sweat on Michael's forehead stops him. His oldest brother looks tired and his hands tremble, when he steps closer in order to drag Michael away from his work place.

"Michael, you need to rest," Gabriel insists. "Let me call Raphael. Or Father. You don't look good and should get help. Isn't that what you're preaching all the time?"

"Don't call Father," Michael rasps and his condition is bad enough that his voice breaks over it. Gabriel thinks he sounds a bit panicked, but doesn't argue with the explanation Michael offers. "Don't bother him with this. I'll be fine. It will be over soon. Just... don't tell anyone. I can't effort to look weak now."

Gabriel pulls a face and looks like as if he wants to argue, but this time he keeps his mouth shut. When he gently guides Michael away, they pass a series of huge windows. Michael likes this place, being able to watch the universe with it's stars, suns and planets calms him, he says. Gabriel prefers to stay on the planets itself, he has an eye for detail. He likes the oceans, the animals and watches whatever semi-intelligent race is currently developing on it. Humans are specialised interesting and though God banished them from Heaven, he doesn't keep Gabriel from visiting from time to time.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?" Gabriel wants to know, pushing aside his personal issues.

Truth is that always got better along with Lucifer. They worked side by side, just like Michael and Raphael did. They joked, they had fun and Gabriel was forced to witness first hand how much the Morningstar changed after the war. Gabriel was never able to put his finger on it, how or if Lucifer transformed into someone else after he took the Mark. Perhaps it was just the fact that Michael and Lucifer grew apart. Became cold and distant until the point, where everyone but them realized that no one benefits from this kind of war.

Okay, not everyone. Just Gabriel. Just him, who realized that his brothers and sisters are tearing each other apart.

His greatest fear was that they already past the point, where the wounds within their family can be healed.

Michael and Lucifer weren't even talking to each other anymore. Lucifer formed his own group, spoke out more and more against their Father while Michael stayed back. Remained silent and just watched from the sidelines.

"Mikey?" Gabriel whispers, as his brother leans against him, because he barely can keep himself upright. His looks sick and pale. Small. Not like the huge, radiant figure Gabriel grew up with and admires so much. "Mikey, are you alright?"

As answer Gabriel gets a hollow laugh. A hand wraps itself around his waist and the younger archangel freezes. That's not an innocent touch and the mouth trailing over his bare neck doesn't help. Given that he doesn't have a steady and permanent partner for such activities, Gabriel desperately tries not to react to any of this. That is soul screams for some warmth and contact after so many nights spend alone, almost makes him give in.

"Brother, you're a mess," Gabriel protests. "I know, you're out of your mind, because otherwise you would never even think about cheating on Lucifer. You love him far too much to seriously consider this."

Michael mumbles something incomprehensible, but given how his grace twists and throbs as if it's trying to reach for something that isn't there, Gabriel knows he's right. At least this is a constant, Michael's and Lucifer's love for each other, no matter how ugly it might turn out to be.

"I gave it up. I had to give him up, I couldn't keep it." Michael finally says as Gabriel drags down the corridor.

"What are you talking about?" Gabriel feels bad for prodding, but Michael is delirious and probably injured.

Even though Gabriel can't see any wounds, there's something wrong with Michael. His eyes are distant, as if he's looking at something far away. Lucifer perhaps? The younger archangel doesn't get why Michael just doesn't talk to his lover. Lucifer is better at hiding it, but he's suffering as well.

Apparently Michael isn't convinced, because he whispers to his younger brother, "It's too dangerous. He can't know, Gabriel. He can't ever know. He can't ever know."

It's the only thing Michael keeps saying until they've reached Raphael. Nothing of it makes sense apart from the fact that Michael looks like a shadow of his former self. Gabriel watches how Raphael tries to hide his worry, when she shoves Michael inside a room and throws everyone out. Leaving Gabriel guessing, what happened. For Raphael didn't look surprised. Just very concerned.

They're lying to you, Gabriel thinks and a wave of resentment crashes over him.

He has done everything to keep this family together, to find a possible solution to this mess. But he's tired. It's always him, who gets stuck in the middle. Obviously neither Michael nor Raphael are trusting him, probably declaring him as too young and too irresponsible to be let in on the big and important secrets.

Angry with himself, Gabriel turns around and leaves his two older siblings fend for themselves, not noticing that a few angels have seen him and Michael together.


"You lying bastard," Lucifer screams at Gabriel and throws him across the room. "I thought I could trust you and then I find out that you've been sleeping with Michael behind my back."

"What are you fucking talking about?" Gabriel growls as he picks himself up from the floor.

Lucifer makes a terrifying sight and most angels have long fled, even those loyal his brother. But Gabriel doesn't care. He might be afraid as well, but he refuses to give ground. Not when Lucifer throws such empty accusation at his face.

Here I thought at least Lucifer is able to be reasoned with, Gabriel thinks, trying not to look at the disappointment spreading through his entire being like an untreated sickness.

"You were seen together," Lucifer hurls all his anger at Gabriel. He's bright, sharp and uncaring. Cold. "I fucking saw you. Michael doesn't get clingy. Or are trying to tell me he's suddenly the hugging type?"

"He needed help, you moron. All I did was drag his sorry ass to Raphael." Gabriel's chest is tight. He wants to cry and scream, but it would be useless. Lucifer isn't even truly seeing him. Just a twisted version of what happened.

"Liar," Lucifer growls and goes after Gabriel again.

This is time, the younger archangel is fast enough to get away. But crumbling wall behind him underlines the seriousness of the situation.

"Fuck, if you don't believe me, even though I've been on your side the entire time, than perhaps they were right," Gabriel almost screams, unable to shake the sinking feeling of desperation that his family is truly through and done for. "Perhaps the mark did corrupt you, if you're aren't able to tell friend from foe."

"That's not true," Lucifer roars back, but makes a hasty retreat by opening is wings and flying away as fast as he can.

Gabriel watches his brother leave, left alone and with no one to turn to.

Chapter Text

Deep down Lucifer knows that Gabriel is right. Michael would never touch anyone else. He tries to believe it, but he can't escape his doubts. The whispering voice that tells him that Michael found someone better. Brighter and more beautiful, because Lucifer is ugly. He can't deny it as he flies over the ocean and stares at his reflection. He doesn't recognize himself, how can he expect Michael to remain true if the lover he once knew is gone?

Lucifer sheds the illusion of a  humanoid  body and turns back to his true form. Nothing, but a powerful force of light.

And if weren't for the ugly twisted thing in his heart, the black dark brand, he could almost believe it. Yet watching the mark, studying it, reveals that he isn't the same person he once was. His grace around the mark is numb and darkness seeps in like ink into a clear glass of water.

His reflection is proof or what Lucifer has been afraid of for a long time now.

He's tarnished. Corrupted.

"I don't want this anymore," Lucifer confesses to himself. Perhaps he should be crying, raging. Pleading for help. Yet all he feels the cold. A cold that spreads and numbs his feelings.

All what remains is anger and hate. When he thinks of hitting Michael until he's bruised and bleeding, then he feels something. A familiar fire that burns everything it touches. That burned him and yet he always went back for more. Unfortunately Lucifer can't even summon a single memory how it felt to have Michael in his arms. To writhe under his touch until he was begging, until Michael's eyes were blazing with love and obsession.

I've almost forgotten how that feels like, Lucifer thinks and wonders if keeping the mark is worth forgetting Michael.

Once he had been proud to be Father's advisor. To bear the mark had been a sign of trust and Lucifer had felt important. Right now, he hates the Creator far more than ever. He's raging, destroying and tears apart everything God tries to make.

Humans, especially.

He hates humanity. Small, fragile beings that receive more attention than him. Michael and Father both have been wrapped up in this little project and Lucifer doesn't get what makes this species better than the rest. They have build sentient beings before and compared to them humans are dump and ugly.

Well, perhaps there's something to them. Perhaps he should find out, what humanity has to offer.


Not much, turns out. Humanity is still in the  transitional  stage. No civilisation, nothing. They're barely more than animals. Though they've already lost the hair the had the last time. After Adam and Eve had been banished from the Garden, they had to be integrated into the planets  eco  system. Lucifer wonders if God allowed Adam to keep his memories.

Eve will choose another path soon. Just like Lilith already has.

Lucifer is proud of that one. Both woman don't want anything to do with God. Though they're still young. Let's see what they're going to do with humanity. They're both going to be mother figures, the origin. Together with Adam and the other, less important humans since you can't create an entire race from just two people. As far as Lucifer knows, they're a couple of hundred. Maybe less.

It takes a while, but one day Lucifer stumbles over a small family.

One woman, Eve. Still loyal to her husband, though Lucifer can see it in her heart that she's sick of being blamed for the banishment. One man, Adam. Unchanged as ever. Lucifer can see the light of Heaven in his eyes. So he remembers.

There're also two boys. Brothers.

Lucifer hates them from the first moment. They're laughing, trusting and loving each other. As if nothing can ripe them apart. He's going to change that.

His laughter echoes over the earth and Adam can't find any sleep that night, but Heaven remains unaware.


"You're beautiful," Abel breathes. He has said it countless times, but Lucifer likes hearing it.

As it turns out, angels visiting the family isn't that uncommon and Abel didn't question the beautiful being that wants his company. The angel is curious about everything he does. How he hunts, how he lives and how he views life and the universe. The angel talks as well, tells wonderful stories about the stars and the things he has seen.

"Can I touch you?" The angel asks and touches Abel's face.

The young human breathes heavily. He has been with women before. He has a wife and children. He hadn't thought that angels could feel like this as well, but recently the angel visited him in a body. Made out of earth and dust, he says. But Abel doesn't care.

Instead he says, "Yes."

It's most wonderful night in his life.

It's also his last.


Blood drips onto the earth. The previous unmarked skin is slashed open and Abel is gasping for breath, staring at his brother with wide eyes. They reflect horror and incomprehension. Why? That is the question that runs through is mind, though Abel's thoughts are getting darker and darker. He's dying.

They know that. Cain is crying, cradling Abel in his arms and stroking his head, promising that it will be over soon.

Lucifer is leaning against a tree, delighted. He never thought it would work. Seducing Abel was easy, the boy was born in the Garden, yet can't remember much of it. Unlike his brother, who recognized Lucifer. Yet, as bright as Cain was, he couldn't see through the trap Lucifer laid out.

Cain is sobbing, still clutching the First Blade in one hand that is buried in Abel's chest, unable to let go.

"You're a monster," Cain screams at Lucifer.

But the archangel only laughs, "It was your choice, Cain. I didn't force you to kill your brother. That was all you."

Truth is that Cain had been jealous. Abel told is brother about the night he spend with the angel and Cain's buried feeling, 'cause they were wrong and sick and against God's degree, couldn't allow such sin to continue. Lucifer hadn't thought that Cain was capable of such a thing.

Murder.  Fratricide .

"What did you do?" Adam screams, having finally discovered the  absence  of his sons. He looks distraught.

He too, recognizes Lucifer. Apparently God allowed the first family to keep their memories of Heaven. Adam looks at Lucifer, eyes full of sadness and rage. Unable to understand why they're being punished.

Yet all the Archangel sees is how much Adam looks like Michael. Dark hair, deep eyes and a bright soul.

Lucifer's mouth twitches. He's beyond care right now, the air is thick with darkness and it already seeps into the souls of the people around them. The mark throbs, aching and suddenly Lucifer knows, what he has to do.

"You can save your son, Adam," Lucifer bends down to the man, smiling. "Take his soul to Heaven. Tell the guards how his brother  murdered  an innocent boy and they'll let him in. He may not be able to return to Earth, but at least his soul will be safe. Who knows what happens if it stays here?"

Lucifer kisses Adam. It's a promise. An exchange of power and the mark burns bright.

Adam hesitates for a moment, unsure what he should do, but Lucifer can see the path ahead of him. In the end, Adam does as he's told. Afraid that the taint that has already taken Cain will infect Abel as well, he takes his son and leaves. The First Blade remains in Cain's hand, who's still crying.

"Don't be sad," Lucifer says, wrapping an arm around Cain. "You did well, your brother is safe."

Another kiss, for Cain this time and the mark burns again. With delight Lucifer discovers that he has passed it on. The Darkness had latched onto the Father of Murderer.

He's free of it.

Lucifer laughs and flees from Earth, watching from  afar  how Adam turns up at Heaven's Gate. Desperate. Crying out to God to safe is son. Heaven trembles under God's Wrath. Angel's are in uproar, because of what happened and news travel quickly, who's responsible for it. There's talk about war, about vengeance and that something must be done.

Angel's are send out to find Cain, yet the boy is gone.

Lucifer is delighted to find out that Adam's return to Heaven isn't without consequences. Since he has already done it once, God curses him to do it again. For every single human who dies, Adam will come and deliver is soul to Heaven. If he does well, he's allowed to visit his son in the meantime.

Death is born.

And Lucifer can't stop laughing.

Chapter Text


It's been raging for ages, mostly because Lucifer is a master of getting away. After the debacle with Abel, Cain joined Lucifer's side. God said it was willingly, but Michael had his doubts. Pitting one inexperienced human against an archangel is unfair, but over the years Cain damned himself by using the First Blade against angels and other humans. Since the tension in Heaven has been running high over the last centuries, the first battle was just a matter of time. What surprised even God, was how many angels joined Lucifer's side. They were eager to fight and to kill.

Whenever Michael meets one on the battlefield their ferocity is a marvel and sometimes they look even beautiful. Though their wings go dark and they eyes change colour, because the only place where the army refuses to treat is hell, they remain his siblings.

Michael remembers their names, though God has ordered not to use them anymore.

Father dubbed them the Fallen and demands loyalty from everyone else. Earth grows into a place that is divided by light and darkness, a contrast so strong that Michael retreats deep into other corners of the universe sometimes in order to remind himself that there are other colors between white and black.

He desperately tries not to get involved, but in the end God insists. Besides, Gabriel returns one day from having clashed with Lucifer.

"You look horrible, little brother," Michael comments, when Gabriel returns all bloody. Most of his armor is destroyed, he looks tired and there's blood on his wings.

"You're such a ray of sunshine," Gabriel croaks, but doesn't fight his brother off, when Michael gentle drags him into a quiet corner.

The younger archangel quivers, when Michael begins to clean him. Gets the blood and the taint off his wings, heals his wounds and holds him tight, when Gabriel finally breaks.

"Why?" Gabriel cries and hides his face in Michael's neck, glad that the huge wings surrounding them hide his shameful reaction. He has fought thousands of battles, has ended lives before. Destroyed planets, but fighting Lucifer is different. "Why, Michael? I can't understand why he's doing this?"

"Neither can I," Michael sighs. "Neither can I."

Truth is he hasn't seen Lucifer in decades. Perhaps they've been evading each other, perhaps it's God, who keeps them apart, because the next meeting is going to end in a disaster.

Michael looks down, where Gabriel has finally fallen asleep in his lap. Out of all archangels, Gabriel is still the most innocent. Raphael has become cold and unmoving. They barely talk to each other anymore, at least not outside the war councils.

You should leave, Michael sends his brother an idea, plants it into his head. Run away. Far away and hide. There're better places than Heaven. It's not home anymore.

It's a good idea. Michael gets up and leave, after brushing over Gabriel's wings with own for one last time. He doesn't expect to see him again. But it takes a while for him to finally turn away, because the sight of Gabriel, battered and broken, makes him realize that he can't kill Lucifer. Not matter what happens, no matter how long this war will continue or how many of siblings die.

Killing Lucifer is something he isn't capable of. How, when Lucifer is the only one who was with him from the start? The only one he has ever let close?

"I've to think of something," Michael says to himself. "There has to be something I can do."

Though he probably doesn't deserve the outcome he's hoping for. Too long he has been telling himself that he's powerless. That he can't defy his father, because that's a fight he'd lose. He has given up his child, his siblings and his lover. Everything he has loved, slipped through his hands.

Looking out the window, hoping to miraculously seeing Lucifer just on the other side, Michael says, when all he gets is a wonderful view on the stars, "I don't deserve you, my love. But I can't lose you. So I'm sorry for what I'm about to do to you."


"Father, we need to look Lucifer away," Michael finally proposes with a heavy heart.

He has wrecked his brain and searched the entire library for a solution, but the chaos keeps getting worse and with every day that passes he fears that the Creator is going to loose his patience one day. Lucifer has been playing with humanity, tempting them has he has tempted Cain and Abel. His followers follow his example. They enjoy seducing men and women, until they're destined for hell as well.

"IS THAT YOUR SOLUTION, MIK'HAIL " God asks and like always his wrath rolls of him in waves. There's nothing left of the excited young being, who loved everything that was new in the universe once. All God still cares about is his authority  "WHAT IF I ORDER YOU TO FINALLY KILL HIM? YOU'VE HELD BACK LONG ENOUGH."

"My Lord, I don't think that is wise. Lucifer still bears the mark and killing him, could set your sister free," Michael explains and hopes his father will never learn of the lie he just told. Yet the danger hardly exists, God never leaves heaven and barely interacts with anyone besides a few handful selected angels anymore. He doesn't know that most of the mark has been passed onto Cain and Adam.

It's a good solution. Michael helped Adam adapting to his new position, after God cursed him for bringing Death into Heaven. Since Cain and his father blame themselves for what happened to Abel, they would never make a move against the other. Michael made sure of that, extracting an biding oath from both. Now they're both bound, forever trapped in these forms. Nearly immortal as well and powerful enough to defend themselves against whatever threats Eve or Lilith cook up.

A smile escapes Michael. God will never know what he did. Too long God has been delegating such tasks to Michael, content to let his eldest son handle such things.

Locking Lucifer away isn't ideal, but preferable to God finding out that Lucifer's death wouldn't have horrible consequences for anyone involved.


"Yes, Father," Michael says and bows his head.

To his left Raphael looks horrified. Either by God's verdict or Michael's willingness to see it throw, that's difficult to tell. But just like many times before, Raphael doesn't protest, when they finally draft up plans.  

"Make sure to add a backdoor " Raphael says one evening, when they're categorizing spells and possible seals. Imprisoning an Archangel is not easy and Lucifer has always been creative.

Michael raises an eyebrow at his sister.

Raphael shrugs. "If we seal him away and something happens, I'd like to know we can get him out. Even if it's just to kill him. Imagine what happens, if the Darkness breaks free and corrupts the cage from inside and we have no way of knowing."

His heart flutters with hope. Michael isn't sure if Raphael means the words the way he understands it, but he grateful nonetheless.

"You're right, sister," Michael says and offers her smile. He has the feeling that he hasn't done so in a long time.

With Gabriel being around less and less, Michael is thankful if he doesn't have to watch what is going to happen next, Raphael is the one of the last honest friends he has. There're other Archangels, younger then them and almost as powerful, but they've never quite managed to bridge the gap that still lays between them. Gabriel and Raphael they treat like friends, but Michael remains a figure of awe. Someone they look up to. Someone they expect to have answers, since God isn't talking to anyone.

"One question remains," Raphael muses, when the spell for the cage is nearly finished and her wings shuffle behind her back. She seems uncomfortable. "How do we get Lucifer to play along? He's not going to come willingly."

"Leave that to me," Michael says and hates himself that he can speak about committing such horror in such a casual way.

He wants to ripe out his heart for what is about to happen, but it has to be done. Between the alternative of having God kill the person he loves most, he rather has Lucifer locked up. Though it will look like a betrayal. It has to. Lucifer has to hate him in order to survive the cage.

Michael can't allow Lucifer to succumb to the temptations of hell.

He leaves the room and is glad that Raphael doesn't follow him. His sister has always been observant and she must know how much Lucifer still means to him. Though she knows better than to ask, after Michael hinted at her that he lost the child and isn't ready to dig up the project again. It's not that he doesn't trust his sister, but Castiel's parentage has to remain a secret. Especially with God still around and Michael can't quite tell how deep Raphael's loyalty towards their father truly runs.

"At least it will be over soon," Michael mummers  when he throws a glance at the half-finished cage. "I can't wait for the day it's finally going to be over. I can't do this anymore. I can't go on like this."

Correction. He doesn't want to go on like this.

Chapter Text

"No, no, no, please, Michael, no," Lucifer pleads. He's not thinking straight, transformed into a mass of pain and grief - and all he can do is hang on to his brother. "Please, I can't live through this again."

A shuddering breath goes through both of them, because the brothers are so closely inter-vined that they can't tell where one begins and where the other ends. All Lucifer is aware of that he's clinging to Michael with his head buried in his neck while tears are freely running down his cheeks. He's gasping, trembling and it takes a while to realize that most of the agony isn't his own. It's Michael's, though it barely matters giving how close they've bonded.

Lucifer manages to raise his head and look Michael in the eyes, sees the same kind of anguish reflected in them. The aftershocks of the most recent attack still haven't let them go yet, the cage still has them firmly in its grasp. At least Lucifer is able to tell again, which is memory and which is reality. Given the empty gaze and the horrified expression, Michael isn't quite there yet. His older brother is still at the mercy of his worst memories and Lucifer's heart almost bursts, when Michael tilts his head back and screams. The sound is not human and Lucifer can't stand it.

Reliving the early days, the war that brought him here in the first place, should've made him cold and bitter again. Logic demands that he should enjoy Michael's punishment, but even without feeling his lover's anguish as keenly as his own Lucifer wouldn't be able to stand it. Every second Michael cries, begs and screams, trapped in the moment where the cage closed around his brother and the cage sunk into the deepest bowels of hell, is a moment too long.

"Michael, stop," Lucifer says in a hurried voice and cradles his brother's face in his quivering hands. "Please hear me, it's not real anymore. Brother, I beg you, it's over. It's a memory. It's just a memory."

But Michael doesn't seem to hear him and perhaps he's truly back there. With an Archangel's power to meddle with time and the cage's properties to hold one, it might be enough to bend the fabric of reality. Whatever Lucifer is supposed to feel, pain and resentment perhaps, all what matters is that deep down he doesn't want to see Michael getting hurt. His heart throbs, when he makes out the loneliness in Michael's voice. Thousands of years spend alone, on the verge of self-destruction, because of the nerve-wracking nightmares. Lucifer's sees the years after the war rush by, is witness to Michael's isolation in heaven. Watches with him how Gabriel goes missing soon after the war, how Raphael changes from kind to cruel and hopeless Michael's feels in the wake of the changes.

All while the old, severed connection burns, the only kind of fire Michael can't deal with.

Lucifer bends down, carefully kissing Michael. It may be the only way to pull his brother out of his memories, before the cage does its work and repeats the cycle.

"Mikha'el," Lucifer whispers and kisses him again. He's already straddling his lap, it being the most comfortable position while clinging to each other. "My love. My light and my fire. Please. Come back. Mikha'el..."

That finally gets Lucifer a reaction. When Michael stops screaming, breathing hard and empty eyes flickering left and right as if he's thousands of years and leagues away, but still wants to know where the voice is coming from. Hoping to reach his brother, Lucifer keeps murmuring endearments, runs his fingers through Michael's hair and holds him close. Whatever anger he felt at his lover, it pales against the suffering Michael is going through. Back when he first fell into the cage, Lucifer had something to focus on at least. Hate, revenge, the goal of getting out and tearing heaving apart. Working on a steady connection to get in touch with Azazel and the rest of his fallen siblings. Thwarting Heaven's plans, prying open the cage bit by bit and learning it's tricks.

Soul and mind bared open like this, it's easy to read that Michael had it almost worse than him. Earlier Lucifer would've never believed it. But even before rediscovering his love for Michael, he had known it's impossible to continue as nothing had happened. Yet Lucifer senses how God's verdicts after the war had forced his lover to pretend. Talk, as if Lucifer has always been evil. As if he had been born corrupted, being the source of all suffering. Turning into a scapegoat, for Heaven and Humanity alike.

Time passes on like this and Lucifer holds Michael close until the pain stops pouring out of his soul.

He can't tell how much time passes, but Lucifer sobs in relief when Michael blinks and recognition returns into his eyes.

"LLyh," Michael says in the language of the old days, back when the universe was young. It's a pure sound, made from love and never shared with anyone else. It's first and oldest of Lucifer's names. A gift from his older brother upon their first meeting.

Michael loved him. Even back then. Still does apparently, if he can utter the word with so much longing and affection.


The word vibrates in Lucifer's chest and the younger Archangels wraps his wings around them. Has his own brushing against Michael's, because his grace carries so much more feelings than spoken words can ever portray.

"Yes," Lucifer answers and kisses Michael again. "Call me whatever you want, I don't care. Please, brother. I can't lose your love again. Once was unbearable. A second time would shatter me and I'm willing to work past whatever issues we have as long you're not leaving me again."

Michael just nods, wordless, because his throat isn't properly working yet, too hoarse from screaming. But he finally wraps his wraps around Lucifer and pulls him in, bathes in the feeling love that goes beyond any physical expression.

"Love. Love you," Michael croaks, desperate to get the words out, despite the state he's in. He's laying beneath Lucifer, wrecked, weak and vulnerable, but for once Lucifer doesn't care about exploiting possible advantages. Not, when Michael's words make him light up inside. Make him feel in a way, he hasn't for in a very long time.

"Say it again," Lucifer begs and rests his head on Michael's chest. "Please."

Michael does. He says the words, over and over again, barely able to grasp that he has Lucifer in his arms again.



Chapter Text

Despite their intentions to heal, rest and talk things out first, it's not much of a surprise that neither of them could resist for long. It starts with Michael trailing down kisses on Lucifer's bare neck, enjoying every single shiver he causes. He goes slow, but since they shifted into true forms during the memory attack from the cage, they're both naked now and Lucifer is unable to deny how much a simple touch from Michael works him up. A moan rips through Lucifer's chest when Michael's hands travel down to his thighs, touching and teasing him until Lucifer goes half mad, because he wants them so badly squeezing his ass.

"Michael, I want you closer than this," Lucifer groans, pressing down to find some kind of friction.

In the end he has to put Michael's hands on his buttocks himself, since his brother insists on going slow. Keeps kissing until they're both breathless and while they're not even an inch apart, it's still not enough. Their emotions are still running wild and years of separation out weighting the reasons behind them.

"How do you want it?" Michael asks and holy fuck, Lucifer almost doesn't know what to do with the offer.

Just yesterday he'd have throughly exploited this, making Michael writhe beneath his fingers. Make him beg, scream and pay, but suddenly that's not what Lucifer wants anymore. How, when he already has his brother beneath his, their wings shielding them from the outside world and anything the cage tries to throw at them? At the same time, it's almost too much. Lucifer has so much to chose from and when Michael spreads his legs until Lucifer is settled between them, because the older Archangel thinks he missed the content of the offer, his heart skips a beat.

"Not like this." Lucifer shakes his head as the head of his cock presses against Michael's entrance.

It reminds him too much of the last time and he isn't ready  to deal with the memory or its consequences. Lucifer wants to shove that part of Michael's history far, far away from him. Denying that it happened it all. Castiel is a concept and so much out of reach that Lucifer can't deal with it right now.

Michael is what matters and Lucifer knows his brother well enough that the subject isn't easily discussed with him either. After the war, Lucifer hasn't caught a single glimpse of Michael's thoughts regarding Castiel. Maybe he even suppressed the memory, forced himself to forget it and right now Lucifer is more than fine with it.

"Okay then," Michael says in a somber voice, as if he's reading Lucifer's thoughts. For a moment he looks uncomfortable before it turns into relief and the reason behind is not difficult to guess. "Do you want to ride me instead?"

He's thinking he violated me. That he forced himself on me, Lucifer realizes. True, the memory wasn't exactly gentle, but their love-making rarely is. It's not who they are nor what they truly enjoy. Sensual touches never last long.

"I want you to do everything," Lucifer hisses and teases Michael by rubbing his ass against his brother's hard erection. With the suspicion in mind that the circumstances around Castiel's birth and his conception traumatised Michael far more than Lucifer himself, he aims for a wilder, more bloodier round than he first anticipated.

Anything to make Michael comfortable in his own skin again.

That also explains his restraint during the apocalypse. I truly wondered, why he didn't search for me the minute I got out of the cage, Lucifer thinks and teases Michael a bit more. Wraps a hand around his own throbbing member, stroking it in slow deliberate motions until he sees the fire return to his lover's eyes. 

Now in hindsight it would make sense if it was Michael, who removed the Winchester's from the chapel, delaying the fight instead of meeting it straight on.

"What you want, Lucifer," Michael almost growls, his hands digging into his brother's hips so hard they're going to leave bruises. "I need you to tell me. You've never been shy before, so use your words."

It takes all of Lucifer's remaining strength to hold back or else he'd have just grabbed Michael's dick by now and guided it towards his entrance. As much as he wants to sink down on it, having Michael lose control would be far more satisfying. Biting his lip and holding Michael's gaze, Lucifer grins as stops stroking himself and reaches between his legs. He can't help but moan a little as his fingertips brush over his entrance and his eyes flutter shut, when he starts preparing himself.

"I want you to fuck me, Michael," Lucifer says, breathing fast and swallow as he raises his hips to make sure that his brother is watching how his fingers disappear inside his hole. Tendrils are reaching out to him, even though Michael's hands aren't moving, holding upright and brushing against his wings as Lucifer keeps going. It speaks volumes on how close Lucifer is to shattering his brother's self control. "I need you to burn, use me as you fill me up with everything you have, just as you did the first time we came together. You were so big back then, a comet among the stars and you made sure everyone in the galaxy knew to whom I belong?"

Lucifer witnesses how Michael's eyes go dark with desire and he freely admits that this was the best part of the memory stunt they were forced through. Remembering how it truly was in the early days, when Lucifer was still young and Michael had yet to learn the concept of restraint. When they made love among the stars and destroyed planets in their wake of chasing each other's pleasure.

"Michael," Lucifer breathes as his fingers go deeper than he expected, calling out to his brother and perhaps it's the sight of his lover coming apart that makes Michael finally snap.

Heaven's General surges up, raiding Lucifer's mouth with a strength and a ferocity that makes the devil moan. Michael is hard against his thigh and Lucifer has yet to remove his fingers, yet it clear where this going to head. Soon, because Michael is suddenly moving Lucifer's wrist, forcing his brother fuck himself.

"You're still mine," Michael moans, but it sounds like a question. Like he's unsure if he's welcome. Like he wants to repent for his sins.

"Yes, dammit!" Lucifer sobs. He's still not there where he wants to be. Michael isn't where he's supposed to be. "Always. Michael, please. I don't care what happened between us. Your absence was more punishment than the cage. I've lived with the thought that I disgusted you after I took on the Mark and even that was easier to bear than the nothing I had, while being trapped in here."

It's not a secret that Michael isn't always in touch with his emotions. Lucifer blames the fact that Michael comes from a time, before emotions were a thing. Blames the fact that the Creator and the Darkness aren't role models regarding affection, healthy behavior or self-care. Strange what you can learn from corrupted human souls, but Lucifer believes that he has a good grasp on what Michael is working through. There's either feeling nothing or feeling everything, and Lucifer aims for the latter.

"One last time," Michael grumbles as he fondles Lucifer's balls until his brother almost weeps in frustration, because it's still only his own fingers and he's not allowed to remove them in order to replace them with something else. Something bigger. "What do you want?"

Lucifer howls as grace touches him down there, rubs his sensitive flesh and he bites down on Michael's shoulder. Blood fills his mouth, but the devil hardly cares. Not when, it finally draws a reaction out of Michael, who turns him around until they're both kneeling on the floor and enters him from behind.

"You." Lucifer whimpers as Michael slides into him, the head of his cock parting his flesh until he can't get deeper.

It feels so good, Lucifer almost forgets that there was a time where he couldn't have this. Impossible that he ever entertained the notion of giving this up. As he clenches around the dick inside him, while his head is resting against Michael's shoulder, giving his brother the opportunity to return the bite from before, Lucifer realizes that he could never replace his brother with someone else.

It's not possible.

Not with Michael grinding minutely  drawing desperate moans from the very depth of his soul, teasing him and demanding obedience at the same time.

"Yes," Lucifer hisses, having missed the feeling of having Michael inside him. 

His brother echoes the word, panting just as hard as Lucifer does and hells, Lucifer hadn't thought that someone else's pleasure could get him off that much. He turns his head to kiss Michael again and given the eagerness Michael welcomes him with, he's not the only one thinking that world starts to make sense again.

Chapter Text


Of course they couldn't remain gentle with each other. Despite Michael's best efforts, their relationship always came down to Lucifer pushing Michael a bit too far. Who enjoyed putting his little brother in place in return. This time, though, Lucifer is the opinion that Michael is overreacting.

"M-michael that was literally ages ago," Lucifer breathes and struggles against his brother's hold. But the older Archangel has him pinned, using his wings to keep Lucifer down.

With the amount of practice Michael has as Heaven's General, Lucifer isn't going anywhere without truly harming Michael and the Devil admits that they're well past that point. Before the memories came crashing down upon them, he'd have struggled, kicked and aimed to bruise Michael at least. That has changed, at least a little. What use has hurting his brother if Michael is very capable of punishing himself just fine? Besides that, they both suffered from greatest of all punishments: loneliness. 

And they had too much of that. Lucifer is willing to do anything to banish the painful hours he spend trapped in the cage, thinking that he longer mattered to Michael.

"I can still be angry about it," Michael murmurs against his skin, biting down and sucks until a bright red mark appears on Lucifer's skin. He moves further south and relishes in watching Lucifer squirm. "Abel still resides in Heaven and every time I come across him, I've to face the fact that you were intimate with him."

Hot breath ghosts over Lucifer's naked skin and he struggles against the restraints, but Michael's grace has him pinned to the ground better than any chains could. With his wrists bound together and Michael's wings brushing against his own, there's nothing what he can do except for slowly going insane.

"It's hardly the same, sleeping with a human," Lucifer tries to defend himself. But his breath hitches, transforms into a keen as Michael makes use of his tongue and licks over his hard, weeping cock.

Michael growls and his eyes flash with a dark desire to keep Lucifer right here, cornered and wriggling.

"I don't care," the older Archangel says and makes sure that his hot breath ghosts over Lucifer's skin. Not touching, where his little brother so desperately wants to be touched, yet remaining close enough to remind him what could happen.

Could being the most important word, since Michael has established early on in this game, who is holding the reigns.

Bending down again, Michael mouthes Lucifer's dick. Licks up a beat of sweat rolling down his brother's hip and relishes in the sound that follows. A high-pitched moan that escapes from Lucifer's lips despite his best efforts to hold them back.

Michael chuckles and is aware how close his mouth is to Lucifer's throbbing erection. Yet it's not enough for his little brother to get what he wants, no matter how much he jerks his hips.

"All you have to do is apologize, little brother," Michael teases and underlines his words with his fingers, shoves them under Lucifer's body until he can squeeze his ass just the way he likes it.

The response is a stubborn, agitated sob.

"Fuck you," Lucifer curses, lust and desire rippling through him. He doesn't care how close he's and that every moment Michael is just laying there waiting for him to submit, is pure torment. "I'm not going to confess every sin I've commit since we parted."

"Not every single one, just your stunt with Abel," Michael hums and rubs his fingers over Lucifer's hole, pleased by the reactions he gets out of it.

They both know this is a game Lucifer is going to lose, but so far his pride is still holding him back and Michael won't deny that he enjoys taking his little brother apart. Having the time to do so is a marvel in and itself. Even before the war, they rarely had the opportunity to spend time with each other without having to fear being disturbed by a noisy sibling.

In order to remind his brother what he's missing out, Michael briefly takes Lucifer's dick into his mouth, sucking at the head and waits for the deep-throated moan before pulls back again.

"You damned beautiful bastard," Lucifer almost wails, jerking his hips but meets nothing but air. Michael spots tears in the corner of Lucifer's eyes, his expression being a pitiful mix of frustation and undisclosed desire.

Need and want is written into Lucifer's features, but Michael refuses to yield just yet. No, he wants to see how far he can go in making Lucifer truly desperate. 

"Maybe," Michael sends Lucifer a sharp grin. "But you know what I want to hear."

Whatever sarcastic answer Lucifer was about to give, the words die on his lips as Michael plunges two fingers into his brother. Due to Lucifer's trapped legs the entrance is warm and tight, and the flesh trembles around Michael's fingers as he drives them deeper. The way Lucifer arches his back beneath him, is dangerously beautiful. Marvelous and Michael swears to himself that he's never going to forget the sight of his beloved little brother heaving as he's easily worked open. Again, because he's still wet and loose from before. 

"M-michael," Lucifer gasps, ready to fuck himself on his brother's fingers, hadn't his range of freedom been restricted to an extremly limited space. It doesn't help that Michael is still hover above him. Waiting with an intense look in his eyes, face otherwise expressionless, but Lucifer feels the carnal desire radiating, vibrating between them.

Seeing such greed in the eyes of the most powerful angel in the universe should frighten even the devil, yet this is exactly what Lucifer has been waiting for. Wretched desire paired with a carnal animalistic need that promises to forge a connection that can never be broken again.

Lucifer tilts his head back as another finger joins the first three.

"Michael, please," he begs, ready to surrender and shoves his ass towards his brother, wanting nothing more than for Michael to finally give a little. "I'll do anything, but this is unbearable."

Without warning Michael withdraws his fingers and ignores Lucifer's shocked gasp as he replaces it with his own dick, sliding in fast and deep. So sudden that the Devil has barely any time to adjust to the feeling. The pace that Michael is setting is brutal and the thrusts going so deep that each stab is punching the breath out of Lucifer. 

"Say it," the older Archangel growls as he repositions them until Lucifer's legs are resting on his shoulders. Michael bends down, nearly bends Lucifer in half with his knees pressed against his chest, as he repeats. "Say it, Lucifer. Or I'm going to keep going without letting you come. Just imagine it, months and years could go by before even your body surrenders. The cage would echo your cries, your pleas for mercy."

As tempting as the offer is, Lucifer gets the feeling that the entire episode is more for Michael's benefit than his own. Not that he minds. Not when Michael's movements are frantic, desperate. As if he can't get deep enough, wants to take up permanent residence inside his brother. A lovely thought, Lucifer wonders how long they could stay connected, Michael's cock in his ass before they get tired of each other.

But that's not what Michael wants.

"There's never been anyone else," Lucifer finally says, face far more serious than he should be able to, given how Michael has found a fast and steady pace that makes has him trembling and gasping. "I never loved anyone else."

Now it's Michael's turn to sob, as if he couldn't believe to hear the words. As if he doubted the truth behind it, because he spend so much time alone with only regret and guilt as company. The weight on his wrist shifts and Lucifer wriggles out of tendrils that kept his wrist tied together.

"I only ever loved you," Lucifer says as he wraps his arms around his brother and swipes a single tear away that runs down Michael's face. "As if someone else could ever even matter to me, when I finally have you."

Chapter Text

"Can I ask you a question?"

Lucifer is panting, still out of breath after their latest round. They had been at it like touched starved horny seraphs, who had to figure out what lust is after inhabiting a vessel for the first time in their life. Well, the second part is a lie, but neither could deny that it had been a long time since they were able just to enjoy themselves. The cage still rattled from time to time, but it never caught them off guard again.

"You just did," Michael says, content and humming under his breath. His lips twitch, when Lucifer hits him and leaves a red mark on his bare chest.

They hadn't bothered crafting clothing from themselves. It always just ended up torn away as soon as one of them lost patience and demanded another tumble. Besides nudity never bothered them before and Lucifer is the first to admit that it's more than just a little bit distracting, when Michael spreads his wings. For him, since there's on one else around.

"What happened to God?" Lucifer wants to know.

Much of what happened between them, gets ignored. Most actions against each other was nothing more than hurting the other, forcing one to feel the pain they suffered themselves. It wasn't easy, but in the end a new beginning matters more than digging up battle plans, which were always influenced by outside forces. Despite having been adversaries for so long, Heaven and Hell were the driving forces behind the Apocalypse.

Above him, Michael goes stiff and Lucifer immediately regrets the decision.

God is still a touchy subject, but he deemed it a safer one than asking about Castiel. Since the little angel can wait, Lucifer finally decided to demand some answers, since on this he has to rely on Michael for answers.

"Can you just accept that He's not going to bother us anytime soon?" Michael wants to know, a little sullen.

It tells volumes that he pulls out of Lucifer, stretches his legs and flops down beside his brother. A little torn how to proceed, mostly out of fear to startle Michael or ruin the good mood entirely, Lucifer decides to press where it hurts in the end.

"I've a right to know," he tells Michael, propping himself up on one elbow, while Michael is laying on his stomach next to him. Showing him is bare back, wings retracted, which is in part a defensive reaction. "For centuries I believed that you wanted to punish me, that you liked seeing me cast down and humiliated."

"Never," Michael growls and turns around so fast in a way only a trained warrior can. He brings up one hand to grab his brother's neck and press their foreheads together. It doesn't escape the devil how tense Michael is, as he repeats, "Never, Lucifer. I never took joy in the knowledge that you're trapped down here. Alone, cast out and so far away from me." 

Softly, Lucifer says, "Then tell me, what did you do to get rid of him. He never interfered during the Apocalypse  though me breaking free should've caught his attention at least. You can't blame me for wanting to know why the bastard that wanted me locked away forever never said a peep in the last thousand years."

 Michael is silent for a very long time, staring into the distance as if he doesn't know what to say. Lucifer waits, he's good at that and he takes it as a positive sign that Michael is leaning against his shoulder, slowly breathing in and out until his hands aren't balled to fists anymore.

Finally, Michael says, "I told Dean Winchester that free will is a lie."

"You argued against it in order to make him fight for it," Lucifer nods.

The Winchesters are never going to realize how far the manipulations go. Heaven and Hell wanted the Apocalypse  they got that much. What they don't know is that Michael had his hand in the final outcome as well. Something Lucifer himself hadn't known until the cage closed behind them.

You helped Sam, Lucifer thinks, more proud than bitter now, since he gained a lover in return for his freedom. You jumped and made it look like as if had been the work of humanities finest all along.

Pleasing God, in case he's watching. Fooling Heaven and robbing the Angels their General. Their very own needle pointing at north, for without Michael they were horribly lost.

"I lied to everyone," Michael admits, snuggling closer and Lucifer is glad that his brother doesn't resist, when he wraps a wing around their naked bodies. "Everyone, Lucifer. Heaven thought I'd bring paradise. Raphael believed it as well and that might be the greatest sin. Humanity will never know the difference, but I let down a friend."

"Raphael is a big boy. He can take care of himself. " Lucifer argues and pokes his older brother. "But you haven't answered my question yet. I know that some of our siblings worked directly with demons, but when Azazel and Lilith started whispering about freeing me from the cage centuries ago, I assumed they figured out some kind of loophole."

Michael tilts his head and raises an eyebrow.

"Do you really think, they were bright enough to figure out Heaven's plan all by themselves?"

Lucifer stares for a minute, before he starts laughing, connecting the dots only when Michael's wry humor surfaces.

"That was you? I remember how they talked about a source, an angel who was fed up with Heaven. Who said that Lucifer was right all along and that humanity never deserved Eden in the first place" The devil smirks, amused on behalf of his stupid, faithful underlings. "How come that they never recognized you?"

"I introduced the concept of taking vessels in order to keep track of our agents on Earth," Michael says as it explains everything. "Many have simply forgotten that we used to walk freely, without needing the help of humans. They believe that taking a vessel more efficient and haven't simply realized that it's just a matter of self-control."

When Lucifer looks down, Michael has the look of an immensely satisfied cat. Of a warrior, who knows better than to talk about his plans or to show off for the shake of pride. No, it was persistence that won out in the end. It's Michael's strength. Patience, something he taught Lucifer a long time ago, who passed it down to Gabriel. But the truth is that no one defeats the master in his own game. Not with all the resources Michael had at his disposal as Heaven's General.

Especially, if God is truly ... gone.

He has to be, Lucifer concludes, if Michael had this much freedom in staging the Apocalypse.

In hindsight, the entire thing is a perfect example of how Michael plans his battles. Like the fact that the Winchester, who prayed and had faith ended up with the demon blood in his veins. Or that said discarded boy with the demon blood saved the world, when all hope rested on the praised older brother. Who is a guilt ridden, overworked alcoholic with daddy issues.


"Well played, Michael. Well played," Lucifer says, voice dripping with sarcasm and can't resist the urge to clap. "Aside from the fact that I feel like an idiot, because me of all people should've known better than to fall for your machinations, I still don't know what happened to father."

Though it told Lucifer a lot how utterly removed God had to be. The Creator always liked meddling with humanity. They were his experiments. Not that Lucifer wants to accuse God of feeling affection for humanity, but he does know that God hates it if something messes with his tests. Thwarting or manipulating the outcome of a fight on this scale, humanity against all the forces of Heaven and Hell, would've made Him angry.

Angry enough to intervene. Or to stop Michael at least, but after revealing the depths of his machinations, it's clear that God either didn't have a clue or was too powerless to stop his eldest child. 

 A shiver of excitement runs through Lucifer as he grasps the true extent of Michael's message.

Giddy, Lucifer leans down to kiss his brother.

"He's gone, isn't he?" Lucifer smiles, bright and unstoppable. It feels like a gift. Like an apology. Fuck it, if he had to put the pieces together after picking up some of them from Michael's mind, laid open just for him. "I heard rumors that our dear father isn't just absent. Some claim he's dead. Is that true, Michael?"

"As good as," the oldest angel admits with a shrug. But Lucifer can read through the nonchalant appearance. This matters to Michael.

Either because he not quite done with his battle or because he's afraid how Lucifer is going to react.

Both perhaps.

Lucifer rakes with his fingernails across Michael's naked chest and his expression is proof enough that he's still the devil. Still your typical Archangel, powerful and above moral.

Voice saddled with lust and anticipation, Lucifer whispers with a manic smile on his face, "Tell me more."


Chapter Text


"It started long before Father finally left," Michael begins to explain. Lucifer listens patiently, for he's more familiar with the backstabbing inside Hell than the politics in Heaven, though he has attempted to stay out of both in the past. Michael resumes, "For a long time, God left Humanity to fend for themselves. He focused on the small tribe that believed in him and ignored those, who build their own religions."

"I can't say that I like the pagans," Lucifer scoffs. "In the end, they're all younger than us and no matter how much wish to deny it, they origins go back to Eden as well."

Though much of the pagans existence can be laid down at Eve's feed. She was the one, who gave birth to the first monsters. To strange people with great powers that are now heralded as Allfathers, Creator of Worlds or Holy Gods.

"Of course, I just believe it's easier to let them be," Michael says. "Besides Gabriel has been keeping them in check for the last five thousand years. I haven't let him run around masquerading as Loki for nothing."

The comment about Gabriel causes Lucifer to flinch and he's glad that Michael proposed wing-grooming while handling the rather delicate subject of their father. Otherwise he might've lashed out, but instead he can only hold still as Michael's fingers run through his wings, straighten feather's all while his grace repairs those that have been damaged. It's a welcome, pleasant feeling, because wing grooming is something he had to do alone while trapped in the cage. No way that he would trust a demon anywhere near them.

Even if with as Michael his enemy, Lucifer could trust him not to go after the heart of what makes him an angel. In the end, they still belonged the same race and perhaps it's a sign in and itself that Lucifer never feared that Michael would main him by cutting his wings off. No matter how much easier the war could've been won that way.

The downside of having Michael groom him, is of course that Lucifer can't hide his emotions. Not with his lover's grace caressing his own, rubbing and soothing all the little hurts he acquired over the last thousands years.

"You know that Gabriel is dead?" Lucifer asks and cranks his neck in order to look Michael in the eyes. He didn't enjoy ending Gabriel, but his little brother deserved that much.

That Michael only sighs is a surprise. Despite their efforts to work past their differences, Lucifer expected anger. Or disappointment at least. Not ... understanding and sadness?

"He'll be back," Michael responses to Lucifer's raised eyebrow. "I kept an eye on him, despite his best efforts to stay hidden. Last time I saw him, he was a mess of conflicted loyalties. A little time for himself will give him the opportunity to find out what he wants."

"True." Lucifer hums in agreement.

Archangels are incredibly difficult to kill, since Death doesn't bother with them. In fact, an Archangel is the only being that is able to command Death. Lucifer is just the most famous one for doing so. For a while neither of them says a word, both morning their brother. Just because Gabriel isn't dead, it doesn't automatically mean that he'll return to the flock anytime soon. He's most likely angry with them, both of them, given how he refused to chose a side during the botched Apocalypse.

Of course, there's the question how Gabriel learned about the Horsemen Rings, but in the end Lucifer lets it slide. Michael already confessed that he orchestrated the whole Doomsday scenario. Lucifer doesn't need to know every single little detail, when there're greater concerns to worry about.

"Has Gabriel his own opinion about Father's absence?" Lucifer finally asks to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Raphael believes he's dead," Michael answers, carefully considering his words. "And while Father not might be gone completely, he has lost a lot of power. Which I might add, is also due to Gabriel. All three of us noticed how his power waned over time, how he relied on us to carry out his orders more and more often."

Lucifer notices how Michael's fingers are less steady than before. They tremble as they remove a few tarnished feathers and the Devil holds completely still, does everything in order not to agitate his brother any further.

"I didn't agree with Him during the war, but I didn't know what to do. Back then I still feared what he might to do us or what would become of our siblings if I acted openly against him." Michael finally whispers. "Yet he let humanity feel his wrath at every single opportunity like the flood or the plagues."

On of their greatest strength is to read each other's thoughts, mental connection or not and suddenly Lucifer gets what finally pushed Michael over. Despite all humanities misgivings, Michael still sees himself as their protector. He's the older brother and if they misbehave, it's because he didn't teach them better. Of course, hell always tries to make deals and tempt souls into the pit, yet it's wrong to punish entire nations for the failings of a few weak and corrupted souls.

"Did you kill him?" Lucifer wants to know and turns around to look at his older brother, not knowing how he's supposed to feel.

Either answer doesn't sit right with him. In part, because he wanted to do the deed himself and have his revenge. And yet, Michael deserves it as much as he does.

"I attacked him," Michael corrects and his expression goes dark. "I couldn't stop the Host, when He directly ordered for all Nephilim to be wiped out. No matter how much I grieved the loss of the young children, who could've been family had we just treated them right. I get that they were too powerful to remain on Earth, but we could've found a solution."

"Gabriel agreed with you," Lucifer realizes as he compares his own knowledge with what Michael just told him. Largely he had to rely on the demon's reports and figure how Heaven's agenda by backtracking their steps.

But a few pieces have always been missing, things like what caused Gabriel finally to break with the Host completely.

"Yeah." Michael lowers his head. "The slaughter broke Raphael. She was never the same after God forced us to act. After we returned, all three of us decided that we couldn't take it anymore."   

"Now that's something I'd have liked to see," Lucifer whispers and barely contain his awe.

In the war it was just Michael, who came after him. Hence why he never acted against Raphael and Gabriel, at least until the latter started interfering. But the sight of the three most powerful Archangels going after the Creator would've been stuff for legends. Lucifer hopes that the fight had witnesses. Some of the minor, lesser known Archangels maybe, who content themselves to stay away from Heaven to roam remote corners of the universe.

Yet Lucifer can understand why Michael did in secret. Why a quick and silent assassination, draining the Creator of his power and channeling it into the Host, was the smarter choice.

"He's still around," Michael reminds his brother, when he spots the adoration in Lucifer's eyes. "He's greatly diminished  because humanity doesn't believe in Him as they used to. Often he's hitching a ride with the prophets and we let him be, since it's easier to keep track of him this way."

"You're a genius, brother." Lucifer purrs and climbs on Michael's lap, wing grooming forgotten for the moment. "You need to be rewarded."

Lucifer pulls Michael in a hard kiss, burying his fingers into the wings on his back, mumbling to himself, "Oh, I always knew that there's a reason why I love you so much."

Of course, they've still a lot to discuss. Though Lucifer isn't going to argue with the turn of events. His three favourite brothers banding up against the Creator, effectively saying that Lucifer was right all along with the opinion he acquired during the war, is almost as good as the sex that follows now. Almost, because Lucifer has Michael panting and pleading his name within minutes.   

Chapter Text


As nice as their reunion is, Lucifer is getting fed up by being trapped in the cage. Until now the cage had been more or less an ideal place to sort out their differences. Fighting - or even better: fucking - on Earth while in vessels nontheless would've proofed to be a disaster ... and traumatisied countless younger siblings. Chances are pretty high that most of them aren't  even aware that sex is a possibility for them.

Oh, how these little buggers are missing out!

Lucifer stretches his limbs, lets out a sigh of utter content and buries himself in Michael's grace again. For Michael is warm. Michael is burning, always. His grace flickers around like a forest fire in a tornado and while Lucifer heals too fast to be truly harmed by the scorching heat, he'd take the burns anytime over the cold, frosty cage. After so many years his grace feels like winter itself, heavy and dangerous, and Lucifer can't tell if it's always been this way. Probably not, it's not possible to take on the Mark, be thrown into a cage at the bottom of the Seven Hells and come out on the other side entirely unchanged.

"It's a wonder I'm sane," Lucifer says to himself.

He freezes when Michael reaches up and ruffles his hair. Or the equivalent of it, since they're floating around in their true forms. Which makes the touch even more enjoyable, because Michael tampers his grace and rubs the spot between Lucifer's wings.

"I thought we're taking a break. I'm far too sore for another round," Lucifer grouses, ready to swat Michael away in case his older brother has plans that involve getting up.

Thankfully Michael doesn't even open his eyes, instead he keeps massaging Lucifer's tense back and says, "Just wanted to let you know that I'd have you no matter your mental state."

No. No. And ... no.

Lucifer does his best to hold back the tears that threaten to break free and hadn't he been so throughly fucked before that he's now in a state of extreme limberness, he might have succeeded  But Michael had combined his soul-destroying appetite with nimble fingers, coaxing equally famished and neglected needs out of his younger brother until they were both bathing in hair-rising and corrupted desire for each other. Finding themselves in a dance of lewd compulsion and voracious ecstasy, going so far that they are now bruised and bloody. Aching, since neither had held back, ignoring pleads for mercy, because touching, biting and kissing never appeared to be enough.

It had taken them a long time before the last spark of wanton frenzy had been put out.

"You can't say such things, when I'm in a state like this," Lucifer whispers, trying to fight down the sobs that threaten to break free.

Not that he didn't like feeling slashed and flayed, smeared with blood which is drying on his skin and could stay there for the rest of all time, because it's his and Michael's in equal amounts. Finally, so Lucifer had though as they were finished, his outside appearance matched his insides. Weathered and ugly, because his character remained rotten and unethical, while Michael still cared about innocent lives.

At least far more than Lucifer does.

It's a flaw and Lucifer recognizes it as such. Michael shouldn't love him for it.

"But I do. I've no reason not to," Michael says, because they can't lie to each other with their grace entangled like this. This, together with the soothing touches, is the only reason why Lucifer doesn't fall apart right then and here. "Besides I can see the appeal of not caring about anything but yourself. Running Heaven is exhausting and an incredible thankless job."

The embrace that follows grounds Lucifer, makes him forget that they're still in the cage. Which is evidence how much damage they did to each other. No matter if God and the Darkness influenced their actions, regardless if they didn't now any better at the time, they wanted to destroy their love for pride, pain and prejudge hindered them at looking beneath the surface.

"Do you want to go back?" Lucifer finally asks, but refuses to look at Michael.

The question was bound to come up at some point. As wonderful it is to have Michael just to himself, at some point they would get bored. The cage limits their freedom. In truth, it's almost too small for both of them. Michael, in his true and glorious form, somehow manages to bump his wings and his head occasionally against the edges.

Besides, neither of them manages to remain idle for long and staying down here would mean letting God win.

They're going to get out of here. Michael would grow insane in the cage, frustrated  Despite his eternal patience he can't stand it if someone - or a something in that case - has power over him. No wonder, since he's the oldest Archangel and equal to God and his Sister? He manages to reign himself in for those he cares about, namely Lucifer. He'd have never let his little brother pin him to the ground and ride him into oblivion otherwise, but if he's restricted too long Michael starts to rebel  Gets frantic and panicked in a way that makes Lucifer wonder sometimes. What God did when Michael was still an only child. If there's indeed a trauma to be found or if it's just the Creator not knowing better, neglecting the first angel since he didn't know how to love it?

"Only if we remain together," Michael says and opens his eyes for the first time. Looks as Lucifer and the devil nearly caves, when he sees his own endless love reflected in his older brother's face. "The Host needs to figure out that there's more to our race than stoic duty. Right now they don't have the capacity to understand what drives us. That we need love just like every other creature in the universe."

Something about the wording makes Lucifer suspicious.

"It sounds as if you already have a plan."

It's not reassuring to see Michael shrug. Back when they fought wars for their Father, Michael always tended to be a bit too reckless. Part of his leadership always had been to dive in with endless determination, especially if situations became a little heated. While everyone else panicked and or screamed for Michael to lay down you stupid chicken, his brother had once just kept proceeding at cutting one of his wings of.

'It's infested.' He had said, remaining calm and bleeding all over the floor. 'It'll grow back.'

No, compromise is a word that cannot be found in Michael's mental dictionary. Sadly he tended to forget that not everyone has a backbone at the size of a tree and enough will-power to tear worlds apart. Lucifer was more careful than that, but he also can't deny that it's exactly this kind of behavior which turns him on so much.

"I might've planted a few ideas into Metatron's head the last time I checked up on him."

Lucifer can't help himself. He groans as Michael confesses, who he included in his plans.

"The Scribe?" Lucifer moans. "Oh, please fuck me. He's an overblown coward, a glorified secretary. What possible use he could be for you?"

Michael smirks. "Our siblings need a few lessons how to survive on their own. I didn't like the way most referred to humans as mud monkeys during a Apocalypse. Humanity is well past that point, so I thought it might be good if our brothers and sisters spend a bit time among them."

Lucifer picks up his brother's thoughts. Sees himself as Michael, diving down to Earth to send Metatron visions. Rewrite or outright replacing the Angel tablets. Creating a few precautions and guardians in order to protect Heaven from crumbling, while the majority of the Host is trapped on Earth.

"And humans say that I'm the evil one," Lucifer complains and makes a show of crossing his arms over his chest.

Though trying to pout like a toddler doesn't work, because Michael only laughs and kisses him.

Chapter Text

Since their intention to break out of the cage, slowly formed into a solid plan Lucifer decides that he needs a final time with Michael. Recently the mood had involved less fucking and more discussing strategies, because their attempt wouldn't exactly be a walk in the park and both could come out horribly weakened of things went wrong.

"The faster we're out of here, the more time we have for us," Michael shoots down Lucifer's request, swating the searching hands away and returns to the battle plans he has drawn into the ground.

Usually Lucifer would agree, but he can't exactly help Michael in his current task - redrawing the layout of the cage and whatever spells they added later. Too pass the time, he decides to tease his brother a bit. Just because Michael is keen on working himself to death, it doesn't mean that Lucifer has to avoid all the fun.

For a while nothing happens, even long seperated lovers need a break from each other from time to time. Through meditation Michael loses himself in memories he has from building the cage and after a while it's nothing more than finishing a puzzle, following the laws of logic rather than fitting the ends together. That's until a deep moan distracts him from his task.

A glance to his right causes Michael to hold his breath, because Lucifer is leaning a wall, legs spread wide while one of his hands has vanished beneath a long white robe. It's one of the togas they used to wear in heaven, so Michael knows for fact that this little display is just for him. He can't see, what Lucifer's hand is doing exactly, but he can imagine it.

"What are you doing there?" he asks, voice rough already. Michael can't draw his eyes away from the part between Lucifer's legs. All the white skin tempting him already to put red marks on them. With a little imagination he can also see the outline of Lucifer's shaft, slowly wetting the grace-crafted linen with precome.

"I'm having fun," Lucifer breathes swallow and lets out a gasp, bucking his hips into his hand.

When he withdraws his fingers, they're wet and he puts them into his mouth to lick them clean.

Michael trembles, familiar desire waking up like a starved beast. He asks, "Are enjoying yourself?"

Lucifer grins and opens the toga enough for Michael to see, where his hand his reach now. Since he has sunk the the ground, feet planted flat on the stone to hold his torso upright, his older brother has the best view on his wet entrance and Michael is watching, mesmerzied as a single finger easily vanished into the flesh. Lucifer begins to move the finger, taking his time to draw in and out. A glance ensures that Michael is indeed watching, lips parted and his breathing going faster than normal, so Lucifer adds another finger.

"Immensely," he moans and lets his chin fall onto his chest. It takes restraint to go slow, to scissor his fingers in an even pace. His calves strain from the ache, since he has spread his legs to wide, but putting himself on display for Michael is worth the effort. He moans again. "Oh. Oh fuck, Michael." 

"Do you want something from me?" Michael wants to know, still firmly seated a few feet away from him. Yet the show has the desired effect, Michael doesn't even bother to hide his erection, waving most of his own clothing away.

"Why you don't tell me what I'm going to do next?" Lucifer suggets, closing his eyes as his fingers briefly brush over the spot.

He bites down on his lips to hold back a moan. It's so much better, when Michael does it. It's just been a few days, but he already misses the feeling of falling apart, when Michael does this to him. Fuck, in one of their longer rounds Michael has brought him over the edge no less than five to seven times, just by pressing his fingers against his prostate non stop.

"Play with your nipples." Michael issues the order in a way that will make sure that Lucifer obey.

The tone in the voice reminds Lucifer that they really need to get out of here. Using his other hand to pinch, twist and pull at his nipples, Lucifer decides it's high time to change location. In here it'd still be dangerous not work as a tandem. Disobeying Michael could give the cage an opening, but ... hell, right now everything in Lucifer screams to challenge his brother. Just to see what Michael will do if his little naughty brothers isn't following orders.

"Now add a third finger," Michael says. Lucifer can't hold back his moan, gasping as he adds another, fucking himself faster on his own hand.

"Michael, yes, hell ... it feels so good," Lucifer gasps despite the awkward angle. "Can ... can you ... take over?"

The older Archangel only raises an eyebrow, clearly waiting for something.

"Stop," Michael whispers and Lucifer stills instantely, crying out since his hands is still buried inside himself, fingers crooked and touching that place, but Michael would know he he just twitched into the wrong direction.

"Please," Lucifer adds, hissing. "Please, Michael, I'm so close..."

Michael's smirk widens and just as Lucifer breathes out in relief that his brother is walking over to him, he notices how thick tendrils of grace shot out from the ground and wrap themself around his arms and legs. It's maddening to feel Michael's grace like this, the touch nearly being enough to send Lucifer over the edge ... if it weren't for small part of Michael's power that coils around his shaft.

"Oh fuck you," Lucifer curses and struggles in the hold of his brother's power. His arms are trapped over his head in a comfortable position, while ropes made out of grace cause Lucifer to sprawl. That a last thick rope around his chest makes sure that he can't get away from the wall, doesn't bode well for his future. "Michael, come on."

"Don't tell me that you don't like this?" Michael raps, eyes dark while the last of his clothing dissapates. Then he's touching him with his fingers, pulling at the nipples far harder than Lucifer did. But it feel so good that the devil can only keen, despite the stinging feeling Michael leaves behind.

"You know that I do," Lucifer throws his head back, nearly braining himself on the wall as pure grace touches his entrance. One of Michael's hands his tapping against his knee, while the other losely strokes his shaft, knowing that his little brother can't come without him allowing it.

"Why?" Michael wants to know and kisses his brother. Hard. Enough to draw blood and leave Lucifer whining, which is also due to thick round invisible something that's still rubbing over his entrance. "Tell me again, why do you obey my commands, Lucifer?"

The younger Archangel sobs and his hands ball helplessly into fists as his entrance his breached, grace travelling up his ass. Long and deep, filling him out, pulsating in a way a human cock can't manage.

"Because you're only one," Lucifer blurts out as it gets to much. He's clenching around the grace, the fake shaft teasing him, while Michael's fingers drive him mad by playing with the head of his cock. "You're only one, who gets to do this to me."

The, for the lack of a better word, toy grows a bit bigger, filling him out until Lucifer threatens to break. Then it speeds up, driving in and out, over and over. It doesn't take long to turn Lucifer into a whrithing mess. The toy grinds against his prostate, jamming back and forth with enough power to rival Michael's usual thrusts.

Lucifer is looking at his brother, lips parted and going rigid under the mean and unfair assault. He's intends to complain, just as he sees how thunder-struck Michael seems, staring between Lucifer's legs like he has never seen it before.

"Usually I can't watch," Michael whispers and touches the rim of the hole. The invisible shaft changes the pace, going deeper and fucking Lucifer in longer strokes. His fist closes around Lucifer's weeping cock. "This is new and I look forward doing this to you, when we have the time for it." 

The push and pull is driving into madness, Lucifer strains his neck get at least a kiss. Michael indulges him, tasting his brother's desperation and swallows his moans and whimpers with frevor. He knows Lucifer well. He can feel how his little brother is falling apart, just waiting to do as Michael wants. Perhaps it's unhealthy, Lucifer's eagerness to please, but he has the selfish wish to bind Lucifer closer to him. To make sure they won't get seperated again and it's not as if Lucifer hasn't done the same to him. It's not like as if Lucifer doesn't harbor the same desire, ensuring that Michael as eyes for one creature only.

The beautiful devil bucking against nothing but manipulated air, shameless and wet between his legs. His sweat pools in a small puddle on the ground and though Michael really should let Lucifer find release, he can't help but leave him hanging a little.

"Fuck, fuck, oh yes, there, there Michael, yes," Lucifer cries out as the grace that Michael is manipulating picks up in momentum, punching the breath out of the wanton beast beneath him.

"What do you want, Lucifer?" Michael asks, still being close, kissing his brother again and again, swallowing his cries. He just lets Lucifer ride the toy for a time, while he admires the hole, clenching and unclenching around nothing. It seems to wait to be filled by something real.

Lucifer struggles, arches into the touch of the toy fucking him. Michael would let him come, if he asks. If he begs enough, he'll even fuck him. Hard, fast. Bend him over, hold him down by his neck until Lucifer is screaming in blissful pain.

"I want you to watch," he finally grinds out, sobbing as the sensation of a wet tongue touches his cock. "Use me, Michael. Fuck, I want you to use me, because you're only one I'd let this do things like this to me."

A deep possessive growl raises from Michael's chest. His eyes flash and the shadows of wings stretch over their heads. Lucifer wants to smirk, but the current speed of the toy, hitting his sweet spot constantly now combined with the illusion of having his dick licked up and down, robs him even his ability to taunt.

It seems to go on for ages, Lucifer panting and moaning while Michael uses his grace to fuck him, until the ropes losen up and he falls into his brother's arms. Then Lucifer is screaming through his release, mewling in want and need as his seed scatters on his stomach, his thighs and to his great satisfaction on Michael's body as well.

The older Archangel draw the wrecked Devil into his lap, stroking his hair  as he says, "Soon we'll be out of here and then nothing can stop us from doing this as long and as often as we want, alright."

Lucifer mumbles his agreement. For his part, he doesn't care where he is, as long as Michael is never going to leave him again.

Chapter Text


"I feel like a cat, squeezing myself through the cracks like this," Lucifer grumbles, because in the end it's far more difficult to get out of the cage than he thought it would be.

True, with Michael at his side it should've been easy, but they decided that destroying the cage from the inside would attract too much attention. Not to mention that letting the cage crumble, could damage hell itself. Which would result in more work and thus Michael had firmly voted against it. Instead they pried open the bars. Not easy, since they had been created to repel Lucifer and over time they absorb the attributes of hell around them, but there's no force in the universe holding against the combined strength of Michael and Lucifer for long.

"If it's bad for you, how do you think I feel?" Michael answers to Lucifer's complain.

The devil twists his head to look at his brother. They've more or less made it through the walls. Lucifer kept digging and shoving, while Michael made sure that the entire structure didn't collapse, burying them under a pile of toxic ash. Now that could harm even them, especially if the cage ended up supporting several layers of hell. No need to have that crashing down on them. So, Michael had been required to make himself smaller. Compact. Neatly folded wings, yet still flexible enough to move fast enough to get them out of hell, as soon as Lucifer was done.

"I think you look pretty," Lucifer purrs and can't resist to run a finger over the power lines on Michael's skin.

All this power wrapped up in a single package. That takes skill, talent and practice. For Lucifer it's been a while since Michael put all three on display like this.  But since Death had taken Michael's vessel just to spite him, they had to think of something. No use to break out of the cage and then ruin everything, because they had been seen.

Thankfully Michael is a well of obscure knowledge. Being an Archangel means that you're old enough to be born in a time before rules and laws of nature had been a thing. When they were young, the universe still had been in flux, testing out boundaries and they had seen a lot of places that defied all sense and explanation. Jury is still out, if they're going to need vessels topside. They could ran around without one, even tune down the eye-melting effects, it's just a matter of restraint, really. Yet humanity has gotten suspicious, Lucifer muses. A few centuries ago the Winchester problem wouldn't have been a issue. People believed in God, in fate or in some other deity you could mimic. They were easy to manipulate in the end.

"Don't tease me," Michael rumbles and the black tattoos dance on his skin. "Not, when you can't deliver and even you should know that having sex right now is a incredible bad idea."

"Perhaps," Lucifer says and gently bites into Michael's chin. He enjoys how his brother's eyes flash with desire, barely restrained due to the location they find themselves in. "But I enjoy it so very much."

It's tempting to tease Michael further, it's always been most fun to engage games when Michael isn't in the position to reciprocate. Usually it had been in Heaven, somewhere in public, where Lucifer would flap his wings and send Michael a grin. Knowing that Michael is steaming inside, rattling against the chains that make him a good soldier, general and leader of Heaven's armies never fails to wake something inside Lucifer. Perhaps it's the sheer want in Michael's eyes, reading how much he wants to bend him over or press him against the next available surface, that soothes some old hurts.

Michael takes in a struggling breath, wings quivering in their restraints as the older Archangel says, "Later. I promise, later you're going to get what you want. But now get back to work."

In the end Lucifer obeys, because the command is a sensible one. There're truly better places to do the nasty, besides he's looking forward to a different setting. The cage is still limiting their powers to a certain extent, they still have to be on guard and can't use their true forms fully, since there's simply not enough space to hold them both. For the cage does act like a chain wrapped around his wrist.

It's not freedom unless we've a choice, Lucifer thinks. He digs deeper, uses his grace to push past the walls, past the part that keep resisting him. Alone it'd have been impossible, but with Michael as his back up, donating his own grace for Lucifer to use, it's dirty work but manageable  He has almost forgotten how could feel, almost being one with his older brother. They used to fight like this. As a single unit, knowing each other so well that they could use each other's grace like their own.

It almost felt as if they shared a pair of wings.

The thought that this connection survived the hateful ages makes Lucifer giddy.

He looks over his shoulders, only to catch Michael staring. His brother smirks and sends him a dirty grin as Lucifer raises one of his eyebrows.

'Later' mouthes Michael in silences and points at Lucifer's ass.

The devil grins and blows his brother a kiss. The reward is Michael shaking his head, not able to hide his mirth and Lucifer can't help but notice the happy, chaotic mess in his chest. It feels like a bubble raising him upwards and he wants to screech like a fledgeling that just figured out how to fly.

Stars, I love him so fucking much, Lucifer thinks. It shouldn't come as a surprise, but at some point he seemed to have forgotten the fact between the war, the bitter words they exchanged and the desperation that brought them together again.




It takes weeks, before he finally breaks through the final wall. He's literally crawling out of a hole in the ground, but his immediate surroundings tell him, he's still in hell. Not exactly a surprise, the cage is buried deep beneath the structures of the world, it's amazing Castiel managed to fly so deep and came out with a few scratches only.

One day soon he has to grill Michael to tell him everything about the little one. His own memories barely serve as solid base. He has met the little angel roughly two times, face to face. And despite initial curiosity , Sam Winchester had been the goal he focused on. Castiel had been a minor annoyance, just another soldier of Heaven's Holy Army. Though, in retrospect it's strange that the sole angel, who ended up choosing humanity over picking a side, knew how to hide the Winchesters so throughly.

Like he said before, Lucifer needs to have long and serious chat with Michael.

"Oh what do we've here?" Lucifer hears from behind, just as something painful hits his back. It's nasty enough to blind him for moment, cold searing pain runs through his veins.

Somewhere Lucifer hears Michael scream his name, but all he can see as he falls to the ground is that the tunnel they carved so carefully is collapsing on top of his brother. The pain, centered on his back, makes him dizzy and he is barely able to put up a struggle as he tries to call for his brother, but a hand covering his mouth stops him.

"No, no, no, my friend," Crowley croons and watches how the devil loses consciousness, since the surprise attack is working far better than he anticipated. "I've plans for you."

Blackness swallows Lucifer's mind and he's glad to avoid the pain.


Chapter Text

It's not a surprise that he wakes up in chains. Lucifer sighs audible, making a show of his annoyance despite the fact that the chains truly burn. He has always known that Crowley is competent  fear of his own demise no doubt fueling his desire to be extra careful. Which explains the circle he's trapped in, strong enough to hold the devil himself, at least for now.

"Good to see you awake, Luci," Crowley greets him. "I wondered how long Id be robbed of the pleasure of your presence."

"I aim to please," Lucifer answers with a smirk, grateful that he can use the banter to check his surroundings.

There're demons waiting at the only door, which is heavily warded as well. Being suspended from the ceiling, with his feed barely touching the ground isn't the most comfortable position as well, though the greatest pain he suffers from where they're touching his skin. But that's nothing against the ache in his back. It starts beneath his neck, spreads over his shoulders and runs down his spine like holy fire. Probably was, given how quickly it knocked him out. His agendas against Heaven left Hell with quite a few dangerous spells and weapons. Though most of them are stored away safely and only the Princes of Hell know how to use them. Strange that Crowley got his hands on one of them, though the little bastard already pulled the colt out of his ass once.

Oh that had hurt. Dean's surprise at realizing that the devil was still enough had been punishment enough for the hunter, but Lucifer had never forgotten that Crowley had his hands in this.

Play the concerned human all you like, Crowley, Lucifer thinks, baring his teeth as the King of Hell steps closer. We both know that you're a backstabbing, nasty piece of  work.

"Don't look at me like that. Did you truly think I'll let you break out of the cage after we put so much effort into putting you back in there?" Crowley says and runs a silver blade over Lucifer's cheek. "Think again."

As blood trickles down his skin, Lucifer grinds out, "That won't kill me, you know that."

It's an angel blade and Lucifer would has great interest where is comes from, but he can sense its been in Crowley's possession for quite a while. The effect has already lessened, the holy power tainted by the constant presence of a demon.

"No, but I'll still hurt you," Crowley smirks and cuts down Lucifer's shirt. Looking down on himself, the devil realizes that he's in his old vessel again. Nick and only God knows where Crowley got that bastard from.

That will teach me to leave behind dirty laundry scattered everywhere, Lucifer chastises himself. Though it might also be possible that Crowley handcrafted this vessel just for him, a few drops of blood from Nick or a tooth would've sufficed.  You learned a lot from your mother, Fergus, and you're far more like her than you're willing to admit.

He doesn't know every long-lived witch on Earth, but with someone like Crowley raising in the ranks and becoming King of Hell, he took interest. It's always good to know what you can use against the King of Hell. Not that Crowley is going to last. Not after putting him up for a pissing contest to show his minions he had a bigger dick than the Devil.

"I've endured worse," Lucifer spats, as the angel blade cuts deeper. With several cuts and his healing slowed down, blood is flowing freely down his chest, staining his pants and the ground.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure, I can come up with something. It's not as if we don't have the time." Crowley gives him a satisfied smile.

While Lucifer hopes that the demon hasn't noticed that it hadn't been just him trying to escape. Oh, it'd be far more funny to let Crowley suffer Michael's wrath. Of course, it'd take a bit of acting, since Archangels are fucking durable and Lucifer has suffered worse. The cage might rely on mental anguish and illusions, he had once been one of God's most terrifying weapons and the universe is big enough to host a true challenge, even for them.

Lucifer hides his delight as he leans forward, licking Crowley's cheek with his forked tongue as he says, "Oh yeah, let's spend some time together Crowley. Company would be nice, since Michael was batshit insane enough to drive me out of my own home ... and it's pretty clear that you're getting off on this."

The anger in Crowley's face is real, so it seems that he has hit a nerve. Lucifer almost giggled in delight.

"Shut up, you feathered dick," Crowley hisses and slaps him across the face. "Let's see if you're still mouthing off after my demons are through with you."

Lucifer laughs, even though he has to swallow his sense of dread. There are truly some painful instruments laying around on a table to his left and while it's difficult to kill an Archangel, pain is still pain. The bullet of the Colt had hurt, thank you fucking much. Besides, who knew where Michael was. If Lucifer is unlucky he fell deep or perhaps has to hide from the demons lurking around. Not an easy feat, especially for an unvesseled Archangel like Michael.

I need to endure whatever they're throwing at me, Lucifer tells himself and watches Crowley storm off.

Besides, these minor demons weren't important. They proved themselves as dumb as a brick, when they started hitting him, focusing on body joints and physical pain. That they laugh, pull his hair and spit into his face is more humiliating than anything else, but Lucifer bears it with as much dignity as he has left. At least his subtle manipulations let them focus on his chest and leave his back alone, for it's itching like hell and there moments where Lucifer wants to scream as white hot pain shots through it.

He hasn't seen the wound, perhaps it's a burn or something worse.

That he can't feel his wings is probably tied that as well, it'd be too much of a coincidence of the spell and the devil's trap numbed them this throughly.

Oh Crowley, you will pay, Lucifer swears and bites down on his tongue as the demons come back with new knives. I'm going to enjoy it, ripping you apart.

It's the thought of revenge that keeps him upright, because in the lonely moments Lucifer realizes that the true punishment is the separation from Michael.



Chapter Text


The worst thing about hell was that Lucifer is unable to tell the passage of time. Minutes become hours, days turn into decades and the deeper you sink the worse it gets. Since they're in the deepest layer of hell, even his Archangel senses are muddled, thanks to the circle he's still stuck in. Down in the seventh circle time was a suggestion at best and only beings with hundreds of years under their belt could navigate safely  The air was poisonous and illusions played tricks on the mind. Often they were just echoes of the souls who rotted away, thrown into the depths of hell and left forgotten.

The environment doesn't bother Lucifer. More so the company he's keeping lately. He hasn't seen Crowley since the day he got locked up in here and after killing a few demons by accident, just to remind the King of Hell that ain't as powerless as the demon hopes he would be, he got someone new today. Usually the minions would've started to carve him up by now, burn his skin or remove a few unnecessary organs. Which, really, was just downright messy. Hurting shoulders or not, Lucifer is still an Archangel, he put his vessel back together even if he gets blown up in pieces.

Not that he wants to give Crowley ideas, but the idea behind it is the same.

"Are you trying to kill me with boredom now?" Lucifer calls out, wishing they'd at least put him in another position.

Sometimes humanity is to be envied. A normal man or a simple demon would've long passed out, but aside from the initial attack, which got him into this position in the first place, Lucifer has been awake the entire fucking time. Unable to reach out, to Michael or to his loyal followers, he's stuck. Bored. Alone in his head and though he tries to resist, Lucifer can feel the doubt creeping in. If Michael will come. If Michael is able to come or did they got to him as well?

The door opens and Lucifer almost sighs as he spots the female demon that enters.

"My Lord, it's such a pleasure to see you." The demon grants him a smile, full of sharp teeth as she lets her jacket slip from her shoulders, revealing full naked breasts and beautiful curves. Well, she could be beautiful, but Lucifer's senses aren't that muddled yet.

"Belial, it's been ages since we've seen each other. You look astonishing as ever." Lucifer croons and sends the demoness a smile to cover up the unease pooling in his gut.

While Belial is a former angel, she doesn't possess much power within the ranks of hell. She never reached the status of a Knight or Prince, who are truly troublesome, but unlikely the thugs and Crowley, she knows how to hurt him. How to truly hurt him. Thankfully Lucifer is a professional, who easily hides his anxiety beneath a charming smile and flashes a forked tongue as Belial comes closer and presses her bare chest against his chest.

"Do you think we could've some fun, dear?" Belial asks and her hands roam over Lucifer's naked torso.

Most of the wounds have healed already, but the blood remains. Not that the bruises and the red pattern turn Belial off. It's rather the opposite, she presses her sharp nails against the wounds with a wicked smile and licks up a drop of fresh blood from Lucifer's neck. Belial gives a disappointed smile, when the devil doesn't react. He still looks like as if he's very comfortable in his chains, body relaxed as much as possible and it's truly impossible to say if he's in agony or just annoyed.

"Well, I'm not exactly in a position to stop you," Lucifer snarks as Belial reaches for the belt of his human vessel. "So why don't you tell me why're truly here, playing nice little servant girl for Crowley and I'll think about participating in that game of yours."

"You know very well that I like to stay out of politics, but when that coward of a pompous Crossroad Demon came to me, I agreed to piss of Dagon  mostly. She's a little unstable ever since Abbadon disappeared, was believed dead by most and only returned recently to be offed by Dean frigging Winchester." Belial gently bites into Lucifer's shoulder and hides her disappoint about his lack of reaction as she reaches into his jeans. Despite her full breasts, her power and her attempts to work him up, Lucifer remains soft. For now, hopefully.

"You know that I don't care about whatever games you're running against each other," Lucifer says, keeping his face straight and has to restrain himself from not obliterate Belial right here on the spot. "I don't even care who sits on the throne, all I want for you is to keep Hell running as usual."

Lucifer pauses for a moment before he adds, smirking.

"Well, that and be my obedient little slaves whenever I come asking."  

 The delight in Belial's face tells Lucifer that she got exactly what she wanted out of the affair. She might've creamed her pants just at the prospect at kneeling at Lucifer's feet and she looked eager to obey whatever command he gave her. Though Lucifer would've preferred it if actually tortured him.

Cut him up, carve out his heart and eat it maybe. Belial was capable of it.

She always tried to stay under the radar, followed him through the rebellion and after the fall. Had always been the loyal servant he could rely on, the spy he needed in order to stay ahead on all the shitheads trying to conquer Hell. Yet Belial is always more than a little twisted. Lucifer doesn't want to know what she does to her victims once she gets a hold on them. Loves them to death, does horrible things in the name of love.

Usually Lucifer wouldn't care either way, but ... she loved Lucifer most of all. She channeled all her remaining angelic origins into her devotion to him and now she actually had what she wanted.

Lucifer grunts as he forces his vessel to obey, puts on a pretty smile and charms Belial the best way he can, but he knows the act would've been more convincing if Michael wasn't so close to his mind. If he weren't wishing right now it would Michael touching him. If it were Michael's moans filling the room, grabbing his shoulders to move his hips.

Thankfully it's over pretty quickly. Belial is smart enough not to try his patience and if Lucifer uses whatever limited power he has access to in order to give her the satisfying experience she craves so much, well. It's not as if he's a saint. He has done more terrible things in the past. Guilt is a familiar emotion, though he manages to suppress it usually.

"There's a brand on your back," Belial finally says, when she inspects his back.

She's dressed again and currently runs her fingers over the lines. Lucifer holds his breath. He suspected something was up, when the pain running down his spine refused to heal.

"It's not permanent, my Lord." Belial senses Lucifer's sour mood and the reasons behind it. "I wager that Crowley carved a spell into your flesh with a knife and the magic keeps the runes from healing, but as far as I can tell, it's not branded into your skin."

"Good," Lucifer growls and adds another reason to his list why Crowley needs to die horribly.    "Now translate it for me. Or better yet, draw it onto the ground in case you can't get a mirror."

"Oh, I know something far better, my Lord." Belial grins and allows Lucifer to study the ugly, nasty carving through her own eyes.

She has her uses, Lucifer thinks after they're done and Belial has finally left. He had almost forgotten that, while she doesn't possess as much power as others in Hell, Belial still has enough grace left to use it on occasions like this. Twisted as it maybe, his own grace recognized a sibling's and together they had been able to render the magic void that kept him from accessing his wings. Theoretically there's nothing that keeps him here. He could easily break out of the remaining spells, circles and chains.

But he wants his revenge on Crowley. 

There had been a time not so long ago, where he'd have stormed into the throne room and humiliated the demon in front of everyone. Would've used the nastiest surprise possible to catch Crowley off guard and punish him like only the devil can.

Yet that's almost unimportant in the face of not knowing what happened to Michael.

It's stupid. His brother is probably fine. It takes a lot more than that to even seriously harm Michael.

Lucifer blames his bloody heart that he worries anyway.

Doubting it's going to work so deep down in hell, the younger Archangel reaches for a long forgotten connection and then prays.

Chapter Text

The first thing he notices it that his head hurts. Michael groans, tries to move and decides that it's the worst possible idea ever and sinks back down. Which is a good choice since it's not just his head that hurts. As far as his senses can tell he's trapped beneath rubble, has a lot of bruises and broken bones and thanks to the limits he placed on himself before healing is a slow kind of thing.

"Ow," Michael curses and balls his hands into fists as he tests how much damage he has taken. "Ow, fuck dammit."

After a while Michael asses that he didn't suffer any major injuries. He's banged up, that's all. He had worse, but so far away from Heaven while being trapped beneath Hell is a complication. For a moment, for a very long moment Michael is tempted simply to let it lie. Curl himself into a small ball and sleep for the next few years. Ha, decades sound even better. The last century was fucking stressful, orchestrating an Apocalypse and making sure it ends in the intended manner is no small feat. Especially if you plan to double-cross everyone, the host and humanity included.

All for the tiny chance of forgiveness. For the possibility of daring to hope again.

He had been prepared to suffer, when he jumped into cage. Or rather, pushed Sam Winchester in the right direction and let himself fall with him.

Michael steeled himself for Lucifer's anger. His hate. For pain he rightfully deserved.

Yet in the end it turned out far, far better than he even could've imagined.

I don't deserve him, Michael thinks and sighs. He can't lay around here and wait to be rescued. Who knows what Hell has planned for Lucifer. The demons are aware that Lucifer holds no love for them, they've always been just a means to an end. During the rebellion Lucifer needed an Army, a distraction for the Host and a way to enrage God. He needed knights, that's all what the demons ever were.

He could be in danger. The realization hits him like God's own fist. They had been forcefully separated  Whoever had been waiting for them, had probably been prepared and the demons had a lot of reasons to hate the devil. Well, the Apocalypse failed. They lost Lilith, Azazel and Alistair. Just to name a few.

Oh, he was forever grateful for the Winchester to take these down. Azazel had been by far his toughest enemy. Once Azazel had been one of his captains, but the fall hadn't done the slightest against his habits to be through and play it smart. There was a reason why Michael once favored Azazel as his best lieutenant and Lucifer had taken great care to seduce him to his side.

No use to cry over it, yet Michael fears given the state Heaven would be in when they returned he was glad Azazel was no longer around to take advantage of it.

Fuck this. Fuck him and fuck hell too, Michael groused as he fought to get in an upright position.

Were this a mission, he might've taken more time to recover, but it's not the first time that he needed get things done in a certain order to a specific date and time travel is a feature he doesn't use often. It's usually more trouble than it's worth and it always leaves him disoriented.

A quick survey of his injuries tells him that he's banged up, that there're a lot of superficial bruises, but nothing that would worry him in the long run. He may not be as quick as before and it's definitely a disadvantage to still have the power lines carved into his skin, but that's still better than having to worry about vessels.

Vessels. Michael wants to kill something just by thinking about slipping back into a confining human body. It had been one of God's last great ideas. Let his children bond with each other by allow his older ones possess the younger.

Ha. Hadn't done Adam Milligan much good.

Honestly, Michael couldn't even tell if the little human had even still existed. While he's capable of preserving the souls of the bodies he steals, he had been a little to preoccupied with the Apocalypse.

With Lucifer.

Who had taken the one true vessel play far more seriously than he did. Perhaps, because he didn't have any other choice. Who knew what all those years in the cage had done to his brother? Michael bet that the long stay in the cage would've had consequences, even if he hadn't felt any so far.

But well ... sex in the cage is a lot like having sex in a dark, pitch-black cave. Which is home to wendigos and bears.

I need to know if he's alright. Michael thinks and staggers to his feet. He has to cling to the walls in order not to fall over. In more ways than one.

First he had to find him. Then they had to get out of here and then they could take care of each other.

The thought alone of being separated from Lucifer for a prolonged amount of time, rattles something in Michael. It's cold, this deep down in hell. There're empty spaces, pathways filled with monsters and illusions swim through the air like fish in water. With an unholy grin Michael summons his sword, the four foot long one, of course. No use sticking to the knife, since he has no hope of disguising himself in the first place.

Though the first demon he finds he doesn't even kill. It just burns in his presence without Michael noticing it, but he finds outlets for his anger a while later.

Michael doesn't think much of the terrified expression of the demons he kills, but with his own blood splattered over his ruined clothing, the gleam in his golden eyes and the fire dancing around him he looks like a beast. Since the frightened faces he encounters wake something in him, a guilty pleasure that pushes pain and fear into the background Michael indulges.






After a while ... Michael isn't sure if it's months or just weeks that he spent roaming through hell, cleaning up here and there, he feels something trickle down his spine. He stops mid-flight.

It's there again. Like a drop of water running down his neck. Soft and welcome, though a little distracting.

He pauses and tries to listen, doesn't even notices that the demon's heart he's currently holding in his left hand falls to ashes.

Mikey, come on answer me I'm running out of insults, he hears Lucifer's faint voice.

The oldest archangel's face breaks into a wide happy grin. It's the first sign of his brother since they had been separated and each moment apart is like torture.

Perhaps you should offer sexual favours. I feel far more inclined to respond to those, Michael sends back. He hopes Lucifer hears him, is using an old connection instead of just broadcasting his thoughts. The later could get them into trouble.

But as relief that's not his own floods his system, Michael knows it's not the case and he can't help the loopy smile. They're still connected, even after all these thousands of years.

Michael, I'm so glad to hear from you, he hears Lucifer's voice in his head again with any restriction or walls to hide behind. There's just plain joy. I feared the worst, when they took me and I couldn't sense you anymore.

Just fell back down the tunnel again, Michael answers quickly and finally notices the pain in Lucifer's voice. Are you alright?

He gets a dismissive snort. Michael grumbles, for it's Lucifer's way of trying to hide injuries and pain.

A bit bored, Lucifer finally admits, trying to sound as he's counting molecules. Though you'll have to do the flying once we're getting out of here. They trapped me in a vessel and I can't use my wings properly.

Michael doesn't care if Lucifer gets hit by the wave of fury that's rising in his chest.

There's a beast inside him, always has been and now it's waking up, ready to claw it's way through hell and leave a bloodbath in its wake. Michael knows that he's not what most civilisation consider a good person. Hell, he's barely human. Barely function and quite a bit out of touch with his emotions sometimes, but he's rarely cruel. He tries to remember not to frighten his siblings, to be gentle and careful and consider their wishes, no matter how taxing it can be to respect the opinions of a fly.

Usually Michael doesn't mind. Humans can be bright and wise in a way angels will never be.

... but ... Lucifer ... 

Michael's breathing is ragged, blood drips from his chin and when he snarls his mouth shows off several rows of sharp teeth.

If they've harmed him in any kind or form, I will ...

He doesn't finish the thought. Michael's mind kind of slips sideways after that.

Chapter Text

Crowley, Lucifer decides, has spent too much time with the Winchesters. He's become mean. Or well, he always has been. It's impossible to be anything else with someone like Rowena as mother. But now he's gotten foolish as well. The devil tells the King of Hell as much, accompanied by a bloody grin. Though the effect would be more frightening if Cain wouldn't be carving Abel's name into his flesh right now.

Lucifer grinds his teeth together, but even he can't hold back a grunt of pain here and there. Cain is good. He's also old and he has a grudge. He has a right to hold a grudge, but Lucifer is too high on pain to find it anything but incredibly funny.

"Is he going mad?" Crowley asks, when the devil doesn't stop laughing. He's not comfortable with involving the Father of Murder, but having Cain in his debt will benefit his reign.

The Knights cannot be trusted and the Princes of Hell keep to themselves.

Cain shrugs.

"I could care less, but it's a possibility  Archangel's are a strange bunch, though Lucifer was almost the most human of them. He's more like us then the others."

The Father of Murder plunges the knife deeper into Lucifer. The flesh of the vessel yields like butter to a hot knife. It's sad that he doesn't have his knife anymore, though Crowley can probably pull it out of his ass if Cain just threatens him viciously enough. Fresh blood flows down Lucifer's legs to join the dried puddle that's already gathering at his feet.

"I can do this all day." Cain says and twists the knife around. He catches the flicker of uncomfortableness in Lucifer's expression, but it's just for a moment. Not enough to say how much the devil is truly suffering. He adds, "To be honest, I want to do this all day. Every day. For the rest of eternity."

Cain replaces the dull knife with his fingers, catches Crowley's expression in the corner of his eyes. Well, the new King of Hell has never been the type to get his hands dirty, but he's better than the last few they had. Azazel ruled Hell for thousands of years and of all the candidates Crowley carries the mantle he left behind the most. He still lacks power, but he's crafty.

How else he'd have been able to present him such a gift?

Lucifer, bound and helpless.

Cain grins. It's been a long time since he felt so much emotions. Over the thousands of years, he wallowed in sin. Got dragged to Hell, ruled it for a time only to be driven out again. Now he's back, though he knows how pointless it is. There's no escape.

Death will take anyone but him.

It's true. He asked. So many, many times.

Cain can't tell if he imagines Lucifer's cries or if they're his own. The anguish is real enough. Whatever is left of his soul, it twists in agony. There's no end. No relief of the horrors he has committed.

"It won't work," Lucifer says, expression still delighted despite the pain he must be in. In fact, Cain feels as if Lucifer is doing the torturing and he's the one bound to the rack. "You cannot die. You never will. I've met your father a while back, remember? I forced him to do my work and all he wanted in return that his last son remains unharmed."

His hands tremble and Cain is caught by surprise how quickly they come up and start squeezing Lucifer's neck.

"Stop." The Father of Murder hisses. "Just stop talking. You know nothing."

Lucifer laughs. Bright and there's power behind it. For no matter the wounds on his body, he's still an Archangel. Still one of the oldest creatures in existence. Cain long stopped praying to God, asking for forgiveness.

Perhaps ... though perhaps Lucifer will hear him out, if he begs enough?

Kill him. Wipe him from existence at least, if Cain can't see Abel again.

His brother.

Cain wants to cry like a child. He's sobbing, though he has yet to take his hands of Lucifer's throat.

The devil created him. Made him anew after Cain brought Sin into the world, inherited from his mother. His sinful whore of a mother. Of course he knows of the siblings he has, but for him there's only one that truly counts.

"You are never going to see him again." The devil is cruel, because he speaks the truth. The voice his hoarse, since Cain hadn't been holding back, but in the end it takes a lot to truly harm an Archangel and just because he's trapped, it doesn't mean Lucifer can't hit back, for he says, "Adam still loves too much. He doesn't want you to die as well."

His fist connects with Lucifer's jaw. Something breaks under his hand, but the physical pain doesn't seem to bother the devil. Instead he tortures Cain just further.

"Or perhaps Death hates you too much for what you have done in order to grant you release."

Before Cain can hit Lucifer again, blind with pain and rage, the features melt. His hand hovers in the air, already raised to break the skin again. But the blow never comes, because Abel's face is looking at him. Bloody, but just as beautiful as Cain remembers it.

"I've missed you," Lucifer says in Abel's voice. He's not the first to exploit Cain's weakness, but unlike many others before him, he gets the face right. The height, the smell, the tone of his voice. Lucifer leans forward a little, straining against the chains to get closer to Cain. "Brother, I've missed you much."

"Abel," Cain breathes. In horror. In wonder. He's still frozen, but it doesn't take him long to fall apart. To fall to his knees and beg his brother for forgiveness. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Forgive me, brother."

Cain is crying at his feet, sobbing like a lost child and Lucifer grins at Crowley and the King of Hell growls, knowing that he has lost this round. He slams the door shut, leaving the Father of Murder with the devil. He hoped Cain would be able to do more damage, but perhaps he should've not forgotten that Lucifer created Cain.

He created a lot of what's running around here, a voice suspiciously sounding like his mother reminds him. Lucifer created Hell in his war against Heaven and all it's Princes are still loyal to him.

Are they? Crowley wonders and retreats back into the throne room to think. Originally he had wanted to go and ask another old demon to take up the blade and make sure that Lucifer doesn't get any stupid ideas. Crowley isn't sure what he wants with to do with the devil, but he sure as hell doesn't want to lose his throne to him. It's difficult to tell if Lucifer is actually interested in ruling or what his plans are.

It's bad enough that he broke out of the cage, Crowley seethes. All that bloody work for nothing.

It looked bad. Did the cage break? Were too Archangels too much for it? Should they've worked on putting the broken seals back up? Did they had to prepare for another Apocalypse?

Well, worst case scenario is him being the messenger of bad news. But he intends to stay clear of the Winchesters for now. They'd shoot on sheer principle.

Crowley tabs his fingers against the iron, considering his options. The trap would hold, for now, but perhaps he should request the opinion of a professional.

Perhaps it's time to visit my dear mother, Crowley thinks. He hates the idea, but as long as he doesn't know on which side the other Princes of Hell are standing on, he hasn't a lot of allies. Dagon was a Lucifer loyality, just like Azazel had been. Lilith adored the Archangel, willingly became the last seal that would free her master from the cage.

Ramiel is the last big unknown, unless Crowley missed a few others. Probable that there're legends that are still alive and just laying low, but with Abbadon still at large and Crowley's problem it's unlikey they'd be crawling out of the woodwork anytime soon. Not unless Lucifer truly gets loose.

The very thought of Lucifer free and able to do as he wants, makes him nervous. There's a reason, why he stayed far away from his prisoner so far.

No, he really needs to talk to his mother.








Lucifer is still wearing Abel's face, feeding Cain's obsession to the point where he doesn't even have to warp reality anymore.

"Please, brother, you're hurting me," Lucifer-Abel pleads. "Please, can't you help me?"

"My dear little brother," Cain mumbles and strokes Lucifer-Abel's head. Places a kiss on his temple. "I would never hurt you. Never."

They're naked and Cain keeps touching him, cuddling and holding him. It's not Lucifer's favourite past time, but at least he has been given more room to maneuver. It's not exactly comfortable, sitting in your own blood on cold dark stone, but it's better than hanging of the ceiling. Blasted hells, it'd be just very nice if Cain would free him. Or destroy the damned circle.

For Crowley is a clever coward, who has clearly spend too much time with the Winchesters. The circle that keeps him in place has holy oil in it. It's not a ring of fire, that's far too unstable to hold him long. No, it's one of the precrafted traps. A prison cell created for angels, probably a left over of the last war. Every inch on the wall has probably coated with holy oil, the chains have been forged in holy fire and the runes on the ground carved with a knife that many demons have bleed for, just to bring it into existence.

At least it's on old cell, Lucifer thinks and endures Cain's ramblings. The effects have faded. But I can't take on Cain, break the spells and the chains while the brand grounds my wings.

"I'll never let you go again," Cain mumbles, nuzzling Lucifer's neck. His hands slip downwards again.

While has been naked for a quite some time, there's still a difference between being tortured and being touched. Ew. Belial at least just wanted to have some fun, wanted a power boost through a little fucking. Cain on the other hand is obsessed. He can try to play the retired demon as much as he want, Lucifer knows the sins and weaknesses of his Princes.

All the little boys you fucked and tortured over the years, Lucifer muses. Do you think I don't know of your little birds?

Tortured souls, all of them.

Thankfully he doesn'thave to worry about fucking Cain. Again. Once was enough. Ugly and dirty as it felt, it served the purpose of breaking through Cain's defences. Downside, Cain might not ever let him go again.







Lucifer shudders as Michael's true voice washes over him like a hot shower. He can barely keep himself from moaning and leans into the mental touch instead.






He doesn't have to say anything else. Michael is close enough to find him from that alone. Lucifer breathes out in relief. He never doubted his abilities to escape, hell has enough resources laying around for that, but knowing Michael is close takes a weight of his chest.

Knowing that Michael is coming for him ... Lucifer denies the immense sensation of giddyness, of happyness and joy that makes breathing suddenly so much easier. Even the feeling of dirt, blood and other body fluids clinging to his skin is suddenly not so gruesome anymore.

Only Michael can make being kept as chew dog for the King of Hell look bearable.






Chapter Text

If hell is sentient on some level, than it's probably doing it's best to avoid Michael. Like an organism that's smart enough to hold its breath while a predator walks by. Not that Michael cares in particular, he burns his way through but he does notice how the hallways are getting wider to make room for his wings. How some doors open on their own or how it always seems to be obvious, which way he has to turn.

Maybe it's his own will seeping into hell or the realm wants him to reconnect with its ruler. Help him find Lucifer. Anyway, there's no true opposition until Michael comes a closed door. The only one, in fact.

It's heavily warded. Spells are written into the wood, marks carved into the iron and for anyone not an Archangel it might've proven a challenge to get out. But the cell is not the cage, so in the end all Michael has do to is grin ... and the door opens on it's own. Maybe its smart enough to recognize the power standing in front of it.

The light inside the cell is dim, but what irks Michael the most is the smell that hits him. Blood. Lots of it, accompanied by whatever scent humans emit when they feel pain.

Lately he has been able to sense Lucifer more and more, despite the spells masking is presence. Just his presence and not his emotions, unfortunately. Half of it is his fault, the cravings on his skin that make it possible to run around without a vessel, limit him. He standing in the same room as his brother and yet it's still difficult to reach out.

"You are a sight for sore eyes," Lucifer rasps and when Michael steps closer the light of his grace illuminates his brother's face.

Michael growls and finds it difficult to form words. Speech is beyond him as he carefully touches Lucifer's cheeks.

"They hurt you," he manages to say. He runs a finger across a small cut.

Lucifer makes a low sound and leans into him.

"Get me out of here," his brother asks. "Please."

It takes a lot for his proud brother to beg, but Michael hears the desperation in his voice. Carefully, he hugs his brother, gets him upright in order get a better look on the chains. They're a nasty piece of work. Old and dampening Lucifer's powers, for they have been forged to hold fallen angels.

"I can melt them," Michael says. It's a fair warning, because he likely will burn Lucifer as well. But his brother knows is that the alternative is taking the chains with them and that's not really a good option either.

"Do it, it will heal," Lucifer says with cold determination on his face.

Michael doesn't insult his brother by asking if he's sure. They've been in similar situations before and if he reads him right, then the most serious injury is on his back anyway. Silent reaching for the chains, Michael wraps his hand around them and lets his grace flow. He keeps his gaze locked on the iron he's holding and ignores Lucifer's cry of pain as molten metal drops onto his naked skin.

"It's done," Michael whispers and takes Lucifer into his arms as the chains fall away.

He wraps his wings and his grace around his brother. Lucifer is shivering, hiding his face in the crook of Michael's neck, holding on. The vessel keeps him from pumping grace into his injured brother, but Michael does what he can, even though it's superficial.

"Who needs to pay for this?" Michael cradles his brother's neck and stomps down the violent emotions he feels, when he discovers marks of strangulation.

"Crowley." Lucifer answers and lets his head rest against Michael's shoulder. It must be a strange sight. A naked, beaten human being held by monster made out of fire and light. Since Michael doesn't seem to get, who Lucifer is talking about, he clarifies, "The King of Hell. This was his idea, but I want proper revenge Michael. Don't ruin by fun by burning down three layers of hell just to get to him."

Michael snorts and looks displeased at the thought of letting a rat get away.

But he will head Lucifer's wishes. At least it's going to give him time to heal his brother properly. They can take their time, there's no rush.

"Who else?" Michael growls. "He can hardly be the only one. I sense that more than just one soul has laid their hands on you."

He's barely sane enough in order to remember not to use the word violated. Too difficult to tell how Lucifer would react. They've all done things they're not proud of. You don't become an Archangel by being squeamish about blood, gore and horrible decisions in order to survive.

For being an Archangel means that you've the power to replace an army and in case you get caught you're on your own. They all have been in Lucifer's position.

With the difference that there was no one to pick you up afterwards in the last three thousand years, Michael sighs. On either side.

Lucifer hums, his lips travel across Michael's bare neck until they reach the soft lips.

The older Archangel yields, moans into Lucifer's searching mouth as the kiss deepens. It doesn't matter that they're standing in a pool of Lucifer's blood, that there're welts, cuts and bruises beneath his fingers, wherever his hands are touching skin. Michael's mind is just gone.

"A-are you sure that this a good idea?" Michael pants between the kisses and arches his neck as Lucifer sucks marks into his skin.

The tattoos make the sensation a bit strange, but not unpleasant. Yet he worries about the state Lucifer is in. Demons like torture. Usually they prefer violence, but they aren't above using rape as well. Or sex in general to make sure their prisoners remain compliant and dependent, for alternating a gentle touch with harsh strict rules always brings results.

It's not like as if Heaven never used such methods themselves, even if they tend to stick to their own and not prisoners from other races.

"Are you going to deny me this?" Lucifer's eyes are filled with lust and it truly doesn't help that he's naked already.

In a vessel yes, but his true self shines through and without the connection they forged in the cage Michael is ready to throw all sense and reason out of the window.

"I want you," Michael breathes, kissing his little brother again. Hard, while his fingers dig into the skin of Lucifer's ass. "I want you so much."

His fire is only fueled further, when he finds the area mostly untouched. If someone touched Lucifer down there, then it didn't happen often or frequently enough to cause damage.

Lucifer's clever fingers stroke him to hardness and Michael has trouble remembering why they shouldn't do this. It's not as if they have never been rough with each other before.

"Fuck me," Lucifer breathes and tries to climb on Michael's lap.

Since neither of them wants to do this lying down - a quick round is not worth getting the blood out of wings - Michael lifts Lucifer up. It takes a moment to find his balance, remembering too late that Crowley did something to Lucifer's wings. But thoughts of vengeance vanish immediately, when his brother reaches down and guides Michael's solid shaft to his entrance.

"Yes," one of them hisses, when Lucifer's body yields to Michael pressing inside.

He tries to go slow, but it seems that his little brother doesn't care about pain anymore. Michael has the suspicion he briefly used his own blood to ease the way or perhaps he just wants the burn, he definitely is going to feel afterwards.

One injury by Michael to distract him from all the other wounds he suffers from.

Michael makes a pained noise as he sinks deeper. Lucifer wraps his legs around his waist, clinging to his neck and lets himself be supported by nothing but Michael's strength. The older Archangel doesn't use a wall or a pillar, his arms alone carry Lucifer's weight and while it's not easy, the blissful expression on his face is worth the effort.

"I want to do this again," Lucifer whispers, when he begins to move. It's not easy, because Michael stands there like a statue. Firm and relentless, but the heat in his eyes matches Lucifer's own hunger. "I need to feel you."

Lucifer is close to ravishing him, plundering his mouth with an appetite that scares Michael a little. It takes a while for him to catch on, but it hits him, when he realizes that Lucifer isn't moving to get off. He only barely circles his hips, as dragging out the point of no return.

"I'd never left you there," Michael says and his fingers dig harder into the skin. He doesn't care if he hits bruises, bites into Lucifer's lips a bit too roughly. He soothes the cut with his tongue, causing Lucifer to whimper. "I wouldn't have. I promise."

"I can't lose you...," Michael moans into Lucifer's mouth and uses his wings find a better balance until he can thrust properly, angling his hips until the head of his cock rubs over the tender flesh inside. "I can't lose you, Heylel."

Michael flaps his wings until they're hovering in the air. It's not the kind of sex he can give Lucifer right now, there's not enough space, but it's a promise. The hint that he won't let Lucifer fall again.

At least, not alone.

"I can't lose you," he repeats, just as lost and desperate as his brother, whose hands spread fresh blood over Michael's white, unmarked skin. "It'd destroy me."

Chapter Text

Since Lucifer refuses to steal clothes from demons and Michael refuses to solve the vessel issue so deep down in hell, they wrap an armor of grace around Lucifer. It protects him from the worst, but Michael hovers. The sight of blood, bruises and cuts all over his brother's body almost drive him into a rage. Thankfully their quick round in the prison cell made certain that most wounds on the devil are only superficial.

Michael doesn't know how Lucifer is already able to grin again, heading towards the exist with a swagger.

"You just want me to bend you over the next available surface," Michael growls and makes sure to keep Lucifer close.

Without his wings his brother vulnerable. Still difficult to kill, but Michael refuses to add more injuries to the ones already existing. Though everytime Lucifer winces, he swears to think of an especially cruel punishment for the King of Hell.

Apparently losing Lilith, Azazel and Lucifer as solid presence didn't do Hell any good.

As if a Human could rule Hell, Michael muses.

Perhaps they should do something about the situation, but there was no rush. Lucifer's well-being came first.

"There's hoping." Lucifer sends Michael a grin, but this time the older brother wraps an arm around his waist and refuses to let him go.

After being forcefully separated from Lucifer, hearing him cry out in pain and have hell crumble on top of him, he'd rather bow before God again before he allows Lucifer out of his sight.

"Stay close," Michael grumbles. "Or I will chain you down until I made sure to have healed every single cut I can find."

"I take that as a promise." Lucifer runs his fingers through Michael's wings, but as wide as his grin was, the older brother can't help but notice the lack of distance between them.

Lucifer never wanders far, touches Michael far more than he used to and always stayed in the range of the wings. Always ready to let himself be grabbed and carried off. It eases his fury a little, because it speaks of a new volume of trust. Something Michael thought he lost with Lucifer. He wouldn't have blamed his brother. The actions during the war don't make him blameless, they both did things they aren't proud of, but it was Lucifer who suffered centuries in the cage.


"It's like as if you were throwing parties upstairs either," Lucifer comments as he notices Michael's quiet and sullen mood.

Michael's surprise is evident and he quickly tries to dismiss it, but Lucifer is wrapping an around his brother's waist and keeps him close. The grace beneath the fake skin is burning, almost too hot and it must hurt Michael not to let loose. Walking among the denizens of hell without being able to destroy them so throughly that the King of Hell will never rise again to the surface.

But that's nothing against the unwavering guilt Michael is harbouring. He's trying to keep it down, but Lucifer can read Michael better than anyone else. His brother feels guilty for having to deal with a difficult situation - during a time, where Lucifer refused to listen to anyone.

The difference between them is that Lucifer held onto his pain, entertained himself with demons and other things while Michael was stuck in Heaven.


"I'm sorry you suffered because of me," Lucifer apologizes. He can't remember if he ever has, but it's long overdue. Especially since Michael is trying to shake his head in protest. Lucifer interrupts him, "No, listen me. You're aren't solely responsible for my fate. I truly did all the things during the war they accused me off and you were right to punish me in some sort of way."

"I didn't have to throw you in hell," Michael says bitterly. "We have enough prison cells in Heaven that would've suited you just fine."

"I don't think those would've kept me there very long." Lucifer shakes his head. "Besides it'd have been torture for both of us, being separated by bars while still being under Gods surveillance."

Michael draws Lucifer as close as possible and lets his head rest on his brother's shoulders. He looks tired and defeated. The devil curses himself. If he had known that getting tortured would've drawn such a reaction out of Michael, he'd have tried harder to escape. He hates it to see Michael in pain, but the more he learns about the last centuries the more he fears for his beloved brother.

You haven't been taken care of yourself, Lucifer thinks. My cuts and burns are nothing compared to the burden you're still carrying.

It's absolutely not the right time nor the right place, but Lucifer can't help but push his grace to the surface. He knows what loneliness fees like and yet he never contemplated how Michael would feel like, up there in Heaven with no one he'd let close. There're memories of a time, where he had been insanely jealous, because he thought that Michael was having an affair with Gabriel. Back then it nearly driving him over the edge, caused him to have meaningless sex with everything that moved and showed some meager interest. Right now Lucifer almost wishes it had been true, because it'd mean his beloved brother wouldn't have been so alone all the years.

For Raphael is truly not the affectionate type.

"I'm fine," Michael assures him. "You're the one they tortured."

"No, you're not," Lucifer answers and runs his fingers over Michael's neck. Perhaps the cage had some kind effect on them or they just hadn't been ready yet, but instead of ravishing Michael, Lucifer only wants to run his hands through his brother wings right now. Hold him tight and protect him all from the nastiness Lucifer knows the universe is capable of.

Michael sighs and Lucifer takes it as a good sign that he doesn't get a denial. It had always been just them, regardless how much the rest of the world changed and their relationship survived this far, because they had been honest with each other.

Mostly, because Lucifer still isn't over Castiel. But there's too much pain in Michael's eyes, too many scars showing through his grace, whenever he brings up the subject. If he went that long without knowing the truth about his ... child, Lucifer stumbles over the term, then he can afford to practice some patience. For Michael's shake.

"Abel," a familiar voice interrupts them and Lucifer resists to urge to roll his eyes. Cain yells, "I will not let you leave."

The Father of Murder glowers at Michael and draws a knife. It's not the First Blade, but even with it Lucifer would still place his bets on the oldest Archangel.

"Cain. It's been a while." Michael nods. If he feels sympathy for the fate of the sons of Adam and Eve, he doesn't show. Instead the mask of the soldier clicks into place. "I'd advise you not to challenge me."

"He's mine," Cain hollers, before he charges at Michael.

Michael snorts and just steps aside. The narrow hallway makes a proper sword fight a bit difficult and Lucifer hopes Michael will remember that Cain still bears the Mark. Out of all people in the universe, this one is single human they cannot afford to kill. Well, there's still Death. With him around it's unlikely that Cain's demise would be permanent. It happened before and it's not like as if the Father of Murder would go anywhere but hell.

Yet caution is advisable  especially since the last war and the Apocalypse thinned the ranks of the Heavenly Host.

Cain coughs, when Michael slams his fist into his stomach. Gasping for breath, he manages to say, "I'll have you. No matter what form. I'm going to fuck you again and listen to you sweet cries. You're mine, brother and I will make sure that you never forget it."

Michael's face darkens and Lucifer flinches. He hoped to hide that particular fact from the older Archangel and given the way the ground begins to shake it means Michael is not happy about hearing what Cain did to Lucifer either. Albeit, out of a completely different reason.

"Scum...," Michael hisses and wraps his hand around Cain's throat, lifting him into the air. He squeezes hard enough to choke the life out of the demon. "I've tolerated you for a long time, because I always thought that Lucifer tricked you during the last war, but the sins you're have Commodore since than haven't gone unnoticed and while I feel sorry for the fate Abel suffered thanks to your actions, you have done nothing to earn the mercy of Heaven."

"Manipulative bastard," Cain groans, even though his lips are already turning blue. Yet that has to be nothing compared the pain he feels by coming in direct contact with Michael's grace. Lucifer guesses that the marks on his throat will remain there for a very long time. "Do you truly think that you're a better than us?"

Michael smiles. "I'm aware that that I'm not the merciful and benevolent god the bible preaches, but I've done my share of good deeds. Unlike you I at least try not to be so much of a bastard, even if it means that I can't make everyone happy."

Just as Michael is about to run his fist through Cain's heart, Lucifer has an idea.

"Brother," he croons and stops Michael by putting a hand on his shoulder. "I've a brilliant idea."








Michael watches, incredibly satisfied as the cage swallows Cain's soul. The screams of the damned man echoes through the layers of hell and he hopes every demon will learn of Cain's fate. There's punishment for those, who dare to sully the light of the Morningstar.

He turns to Lucifer, saying, "I admit that this is one of your better ideas. Adam will have no dominion over him, while he's inside there and I can also make sure that Death will never penetrate the bars of the cage again."

While he knows the fate of being locked into the cage better than anyone else, Lucifer still nods. "It also also the convenient effect that the Mark is safely locked away. Unreachable for any stupid human, because there are rumors that Cain tried to get rid of it before."

It hits Lucifer that their Aunt is now utterly unreachable. With Death unable to pass through Michael's newly crafted seals and Cain on the other side, Amara will stay away. Hovering at the edge of the universe forever. He's not sure how he's supposed to feel about that.

She's not like the Creator, cold and unfeeling. But she never has been made out of love and sunshine either. They'll never know what she might have been, given different circumstances.

It's not worth the risk, Lucifer thinks, sparing Michael a glance while they work together to forge new locks on the cage. With her brother weakened, attacked by his own oldest children, she might choose him over the creations he locked her away for.

"We'll have to make sure that no one brings together the Four Rings of the Horseman together on sheer accident," Lucifer says, when they're finally done.

"That can wait." Michael takes a deep breath and coughs  when he inhales too much brimstone. Instead he looks Lucifer into the eyes, wraps his wings around his younger brother and says, "I want to go home. Are you coming with me?"



Chapter Text

In the end Lucifer has to reign himself in. Too much he wants to take his anger out on Crowley, but as Michael right puts it, there's another time and place. Besides Crowley, Lucifer has to admit, is a sneaky and resourceful bastard and the title King of Hell comes with a few advantages. Lucifer doesn't doubt that he could win against the demon, but he wants his wings back first. Which is going to take a while, because Michael insists taking care of their wounds in safety. Smart, but it leaves Lucifer clinging to his brother and it reminds him that it has been a long time since he had to rely on someone else in order to fly.

If he thinks of it, only Michael ever carried him like this.

Right now Lucifer is clinging to his brother's back. He's almost riding him, for Michael as more or less assumed his true form, which means he now resembles a dragon. For Michael is huge and made out of fire, power and feathers so hard that they look like scales.

Since they're still in hell, Lucifer keeps back the squeal of delight that threatens to escape him. Flying like this reminds him of his childhood. Not that he had a childhood like humanity understands it, but there was a time where he was younger and more innocent. Michael had been his entire world back then. There existed nothing else.

He's always been there. Always. Even in the cage Lucifer could feel the traces of his brother's grace, which he must've left there during its creation. Unlikely that it had happened intentionally, but in the long run this small connection kept Lucifer sane. Had the bars of the cage not reminded him of what he had lost, of what he once had and could never had again, he maybe would've never worked so hard to get out of the cage.

Lucifer buries his fingers in Michael's wings, holding on tightly. It hits him that he allowed to touch Michael again. They fucked, they kissed and held each other without the desire to betray or cause terrible harm.

It's difficult to believe that Michael can still love him after everything that happened, but everything is pointing into that direction.

I don't know if I can ever believe it, the devil thinks and digs himself deeper into Michael's grace. His older brother closes it above him, wrapping Lucifer into a cocoon until the Morningstar is a small light at the center of a burning planet. A soul, tiny by comparison since Lucifer is still trapped in his vessel, but protected. It's the equivalent of Lucifer leaning against Michael's chest, when he sighs, closes his eyes and lets the hot, violent grace warm up his own.

"I will never take you for granted again," Lucifer says as they leave hell behind.

The answer is a deep rumble. Michael can't form words in this form, he's just mass of light and intend, but thankfully he doesn't have to. They share a link nonetheless and Lucifer swears he will never fall back on the excuse of having misunderstood Michael. There's no lying, no deceiving, when they're like this.

It reminds him of the early days, when they danced among the stars and flew through the universe.


Wrapped up in Michael's grace as he is, it takes Lucifer a while to get where they're heading. For the longest time he has been staring down, watching Hell get smaller and smaller, pondering the fact that hell had been less the absence of god for him, but rather the knowledge that Michael would never love him again. Leaving hell on Michael's back is better than therapy. It's the confirmation that he's done with it.

I will never go back, Lucifer thinks. A stream of light makes him look up and then the devil almost gets a heart attack, when he sees the Gates of Heaven looming above.

"What are you doing, Michael?" Lucifer screams outraged. He pulls at his brother's wings, trying to reign him in like a horse, but of course he's not listening.

A small part of Lucifer doubts that Michael is capable of listening right now, because empty or not, Heaven still recognizes its ruler. Heaven is younger than Michael is. The Archangels built it together, each adding something to make it homely. But Michael built the walls. Michael feed the realm with his grace until it could survive on its own. Lucifer has never been sure if Heaven is actually alive in some sort of way, but fact is it always listened to Michael first and foremost. God liked the throne room, but otherwise roamed the universe or kept to his experiments.

"Michael, are you insane? I've been cast out, remember? I will fucking burn if you keep going like this," Lucifer almost screams as they reach the gates.

No, you won't, Michael rumbles. Trust me on this.

He does, but Lucifer still braces himself for the pain. Honestly, he almost expects for the gates to stay closed, because there's a seal shining on it. Someone used to spell to cast all angels from Heaven and while Archangel's can override it, there's no guarantee that it works on the first try.

Lucifer holds his breath, presses himself flat against Michael's skin until they grace melts together and squeezes his eyes shut. Any moment now Heaven will react to his demonic, devilish presence, because Archangel or not, aeons in the cage had some effect on his grace.

He waits for holy fire burning him to ashes, but it never comes.

"It's alright. You can open your eyes again," Michael says and Lucifer feels how two strong hands are holding upright.

Cautiously the devil opens his eyes. The first thing he sees is Michael's naked chest. His brother must've transformed back, shifting through true forms in order to pass through the gates. It's not a surprise that the power lines on his skin are fading rapidly. His mind tries to comprehend where they are. Out of the corner of his eyes Lucifer can see, feel and hear Heaven laying peacefully in front of them, but ...

... he can't believe it. In the darkest hours alone in the cage he raged, throwing himself against the bars and cursing his own stupidity. How could he have been so dump, so arrogant to throw away his home and Michael's love for ... for nothing? What he had gotten in return? The brand of a traitor, thousands of siblings dead or fallen. Michael's scorn.

Whenever those memories resurface it's difficult to remember that it's different now. Sometimes Lucifer still can't quite believe it that this, any of this, is real.

"I'm here, Heylel," Michael speaks to him, fingertips touching his cheeks. The oldest Angel doesn't seem to mind that Lucifer is clinging to him like a child. "We're home now. I know the change must be confusing your senses, but it's the best place available for us. We can heal here."

Lucifer tries to catch his breath, avoids Michael's gaze for he has to hold onto what little control he possesses right now. Instead his eyes wander over Heaven. Michael must've used one of the many backdoors the Archangels always used to avoid detection, whenever they were send on missions. In the distance Lucifer sees the towers of the Silver City gleaming in the beautiful light of thousands of stars that are shining above them.

He knees almost give out under him, when he realizes that it's the stars he put there an incredible long time ago. He recognizes the constellations.

"You kept them," Lucifer whispers, staring at the sky. If there are tears running down his face, because Michael couldn't apparently bring himself to destroy his little brother's finest work, than neither of them comments on it. "They're still there. My precious little babies."

He doesn't have the strength to fly up and greet them, but given how bright they're shining today, Lucifer likes to believe the stars remember him. Perhaps with fondness even. With his wings sealed he can't hear their voices, but the sight alone is enough to make the whole trip worth whatever comes next.

"Of course, they're still there," Michael comments on the stars. Unlike his brother he can hear them singing in joy, seeing their beloved Morningstar back where he belongs. He can also tell that they're concerned about the state Heylel is in.

For Lucifer on the other hand it feels as if reality is crashing down on him. His head is swimming and be barely notice how Michael embraces him, wrapping his arms and his wings from behind.

"This is Heaven," Lucifer whispers. His voice is shaking. "I never thought I'd allowed to come back."

"It's your home, Heylel" Michael speaks in a soft voice and runs his fingers through Lucifer's hair, who is very glad that the vessel still muffles his senses.

Experiencing the full sensation of being back, of being connected to the Host again ... that would be too much at once. Stars, it's almost too much too have Michael pressing against his back, all barriers having fallen away until Heaven's General is towering behind him in his full glory.

Lucifer hesitates to look at Michael. His brother has always been mighty and beautiful. A force of nature, powerful and kind - in a way God and his Sister never managed to be.

When he finally does, he has to ask, "Am I allowed to stay? I can't do this on a temporary basis, Mikhail. You can't bring me back here and then show me the door, when I'm back at full strength."

Michael's huge wings flicker against the starlight, making them look like as if they're burning and Heaven's General with it.

"No," Michael hisses forcefully and Heaven shakes under his anger. A little more subdued, because he quickly reigns himself in again, he adds. "No. Regardless of what happened between us or how I angry I got, I couldn't live with the vision of you never returning. Banishing your light from Heaven forever was an idea I didn't want to ever become reality, Heylel."

His brother isn't being subtle, using Lucifer's old name. Strangely the sound disturbs him less and less. Together with being home again, Lucifer can almost believe that this isn't a dream. For deep down he still fear he's going to wake up and find that he's still in the cage. Alone. With no Apocalypse in sight to end his suffering.

"It's real, I promise you this," Michael whispers and finally hugs him. "I can barely believe it myself sometimes, but that's why I had to bring you here. As much as I wanted it, I could never imagine how it would look like if you ever returned to Heaven."

The embrace is tight and beneath his fingers Lucifer feels how his brother trembles. Apparently he's not the only who can't believe it's over. That they're back. That they got another chance at their love, which they nearly destroyed in a horrible and gruesome war. As for Michael's fears ... Lucifer understands. He understands far too well.

He wondered as well what he would do if he conquered Heaven, if his demons beat the angelic host. Yet his dreams always ended with him standing in front of the gates. His fantasies perhaps included him on God's throne, ruling over the remaining Host, because he hated how his brothers and sister simply forgot him.

Yet Michael never made an appearance in those revenge fantasies.

For the thought of his beloved brother beaten, wingless and in chains is something Lucifer never entertained. Not even in his darkest hours, when he wishes to scatter the rest of his siblings across the universe.

Finally Lucifer chuckles, grinning against Michael's bare chest as he says, "Well, perhaps there is a God. Some kind of ancient benevolent force that's older than Light and Darkness themselves."

Michael's shrugs. "I doubt it. Even if, we can take care of ourselves."

He kisses Lucifer, gripping and desperate. "Besides I'd rather like to attribute this success to us, not to something destiny cooked up for us."

The Morningstar laughs and Lucifer is too amused to notice Michael's staring. "You're just a possessive bastard, that' all."


Chapter Text

Lucifer groans as Michael slams him into the door. It's rough and possessive. The frame rattles from the power Michael is using and Lucifer knows that there will be bruises later. He angles his head and gives Michael better access to his neck. His older brother immediately reacts and sucks a bright red mark on a sensitive spot near the collarbone. It hurts when teeth penetrate his skin, but the pain is delicious. Lucifer is used to worse and it feels amazing, when Michael licks the blood away.

"Fuck, Mickey," Lucifer rasps as his brother pulls away and reveal his blood red mouth. "You're so fucking hot right now."

Hot is damned right. Literally even, because Michael burns with grace. Lucifer wraps his legs around his brother's waist and clings to his shoulders. The skin is almost smouldering. It's a wonder if he doesn't have burn marks later.

A deep rumble escapes Michael's chest and the glazed look in his eyes tells Lucifer that Michael isn't just running so hot that it burns the oldest Archangel from inside out, he's also high. Drugged to the gills, in so far it's possible with an archangel. But not even Michael can withstand the power of the host. With most of their siblings grounded, the good portion of their unused grace is searching for an outlet. Finding it in Michael, especially since he has been gone for a while.

Not that it's the first time that Michael left the Heaven. Lucifer remembers him fulfilling task for God before that sometimes took centuries to complete, but never he has been cut off from the Host.

"We can be so glad that our younger brothers and sisters can't hear us right now. You would traumatise them," Lucifer teases and leans into Michael's touch. It's a blessing in disguise that his wings are sealed right now.

He isn't sure he'd have fared so well, had the grace of the Host connected with him in the way it does with Michael right now. Unlike his older brother Lucifer was gone for millennia. It's probably a bad idea to let in so much grace at once. Frankly, it frightens him to think about reconnecting with the Host at all. Thankfully Michael is great at distracting him from such thoughts.

"Let them hear us, I don't care," Michael mumbles and hoists Lucifer's hips up. Clothing as disintegrated ages ago, which means that they're both blissfully naked as he gets pressed against the door with one hand and Michael goes on his knees to get his mouth on Lucifer's dick.

He sucks it into his mouth, bypassing any kind of teasing. Lucifer can only gasp and hook his legs over Michael's shoulders as his brother slides his tongue over the head of his cock. Takes him deeper the next second and doesn't give him time to breath or adjust. It's feels like as if he's getting fucked by the sun itself and they haven't even gotten to that part yet. Reaching for something to hold on, Lucifer digs into the wood. He leaves claw marks behind, crying out when Michael allows him to fuck his mouth while almost hanging in the air.

Michael's strength is all what keeps him upright.

"Yes, fuck yes." Lucifer bucks his hips as he feels himself get wet.

He's still in his male vessel, the brand on his back is still in place, but with so much grace flowing through him Michael just might change the gender without realizing he's doing it. Not that Lucifer cares right now. Michael's mouth is still on him, still driving him to forgotten heights. The absence of the cage makes him dizzy. Lust flows through him instead of guilt, fear and caution.

It's the first time the are touching each other completely outside of hell and Lucifer hasn't noticed how much that place weighted on him. A fresh breeze touches his overheated skin, wind ruffles Michael's feathers and the sky outside is so much brighter than anything Hell ever managed to produce. Even in illusions or in his memories Heaven has never been this brilliant and colourful.

"M-Michael, hurry," Lucifer groans and lowers his feet back on the ground.

They are weak and he's not sure if they're going to carry him, but it's better than being so utterly and completely at Michael's mercy. Not that he can do much in his new position, Michael's hold is still firm and swallowing him down without letting him reach completion, but it's the thought that counts.

"Why should I?" Michael pulls off and enjoys hearing his brother keen. He doesn't even care about the saliva and the pre-come dripping down his chin. Instead he savours how Lucifer's cock is hard and pulsating, so damned close to spilling everything over his hand. "We have finally all the time in the world."

"Just because you're doped in celestial power to appreciate an orgasm it doesn't mean you have to torment me ," Lucifer hisses, but it's a weak threat since a single flick of Michael's wrist is enough to make him moan again.

"Talk like that and I'll make you wait until I'm able to get hard again."

Michael's expression could be called adorable, weren't it for the fact that he's dead serious. Lucifer is torn between provoking his brother and risking getting blue balls or if he should beg to finish him off. For Michael's cock is truly soft and hasn't so much as twitched in the last minutes. Not exactly a surprise. Lucifer can feel the grace flowing through Michael, even bound and trapped in a form like this.

"Brother..." Lucifer sighs and buries his fists in Michael's hair as fingers travel from his cock to the space between his legs. Then he almost brains himself on the wall, when the older Archangel doesn't hesitate to slip three fingers inside at once.

Wet and on the edge as Lucifer is, that single motion is enough to make him come. He clenches around his brother's fingers, who only smiles and fucks the devil as he's riding through the aftershocks. For now he's content to watch. To feel, for it's not the same as before. The light of the cage dimmed his brother's beauty and here in Heaven Michael can see where Lucifer ends and where Heylel begins. Perhaps his beloved will never be truly comfortable with his old name again, but he's no longer just the devil either. He's more, becoming more and Michael can't wait until the Morningstar spreads his wings again.

He can almost imagine it as Lucifer rides his fingers trembling, moaning and exposed.

He will see it happen. There's no way around it. Michael has the faith of the entire host, if needed.


"Thrice-damned hell." Lucifer's speech is a little slurred, when Michael finally pulls his fingers out.

It's unfair that his brother knows him so well. The cage isn't a pleasant place, but it did serve to create more intimacy between them. In order to avoid its effects, they wrapped themselves around the other until it became difficult to tell them apart. Up here, it's far easier and the lack of pressure makes him light-headed.

No wonder that I came that hard, Lucifer thinks and stares down at the mess he made. It's a lot, far more than even a healthy human body can produce, but Michael has been teasing him for too long. Used his fingers in the best ways to massage spots Lucifer almost forgot he had. Yet a single look at his brother, who is currently sitting on the ground with one hand wrapped around Lucifer's calves and the other spreading the drying semen over his skin, is enough for Lucifer to want to go at it again.

"Tell me you have a bed around here somewhere," Lucifer groans. His human body is spent and shows signs of fatigue, but the grace inside is far from done.

It's swirling, dancing inside him and searching for a way out. Lucifer has to bite down hard on his lips to get his body back under control. His vessel doesn't want to get hard. Certain areas feel overstimulated and being touched right now borders on painful. Not so much for his grace, which is acting like a toddler hammering against the inside of a small car. Throwing a tantrum, because it's searching for an outlet. It wants to reconnect with Michael and Lucifer knows he hardly has a say in the matter. Between returning to Heaven, having his wings sealed away and the collective grace of the Host already brushing against his senses he feels as if he has three seconds left to get Michael hard and between his legs.

Finally his brother raises to his feet again.

"Not sure what they did with my sleeping quarters after I left," Michael says. A thumb brushes over the bright red marks left behind on his neck and Lucifer hates it that he's too weak on his knees to do the same to Michael.

"Sound like as if you demolished our old ones a long time ago?" Lucifer wants to know.

It's reasonable. Quite frankly, it would disturb him if Michael kept living in parts the Archangels had for themselves.

Still, Michael looks ashamed as he shrugs, "I couldn't look at them. I missed to much and hated being reminded of happier times."

As it turns out, Michael didn't just destroy their rooms, their flat and their gardens in a predicable fit of rage. He tore through an entire section of Heaven . Going so far that Raphael ordered entirely new quarters to be build, where nothing had to remind Michael of Lucifer anymore. The devil doesn't have to see those rooms to know that they weren't a home for Michael. If he has to guess, his brother more or less slept on sofa inside his office in the last millennia.

When Michael stops walking to look down at the empty Heaven laying beneath them, Lucifer hugs his brother from behind. It's a bit awkward since Michael is almost twice as big as his own human vessel, but he manages it.

"We can take care of that later, Mik'hail," Lucifer breathes against his lover's skin. His grace thrums, interested and hungry. "But before we take any steps to throw Metatron of the throne, I want you to take me to the nearest room with a lock and fuck me, get it?"

Lucifer doesn't have see Michael's face in order to know what kind of expression is flickering over it. The tremor in the pair of wings tells him everything. Since he's done with being patient Lucifer climbs on Michael's back and rubs himself against him. His dysfunctional human vessel is finally able of being interested again and given how Michael groans as Lucifer runs his fingers through feathers right next his head, he has great hopes that they will end up fucking soon enough.

It's just them in a remote and forgotten part of Heaven. It feels like the old times. It feels like a new beginning.

"C'mon, Mik'hail. I want you to get me wet. I want to feel you inside me," Lucifer murmurs, low and possessive. He wants to stake a claim. Michael is his and this time there's no one who is able to get between them.


Chapter Text

Lucifer's groan is soft as he tries to find a way to pull his brother closer. There's that tender ache inside him and he knows only Michael can ease it. The vessel is confining. He almost forgot how bad it can be, folding yourself into something so small. Hell and Earth made him get used to it. Yet Heaven was his home far longer than the time he spent away and even if he's not able to connect with the grace of the Host like Michael is currently doing, old instincts remind him that it's possible. The fact that Michael takes his time to make his way through Heaven just serves to give Lucifer time to acclimate. The sight of Heaven is strange and wonderful at the same time.

The stars twinkling above their heads is enough to shatter his self-control and Lucifer is glad for the slow pace Michael is setting. They are walking, even. Barefoot over grass and streets of light. They pass buildings, some familiar some alien in looks and function. Since his brother is taller in this form, Lucifer has trouble keeping up a little. His wings are still sealed, but the shift inside his vessel. They wish to reach out and touch Michael's own, which are trailing over the ground. In part, because they are so large, but also because Michael isn't making the effort to show them off.

It's the angelic equivalent of wearing sweatpants and Lucifer can't begrudge Michael this, no matter if he thinks his brother should take better care of himself. But the fact that Michael is so quiet is reason for worry enough, so he will let the wings slide for a moment.

"Do you have a specific destination in mind?" Lucifer asks, when Michael leads them in circles. The light of the stars above make it easier to read Michael's moods.

In hell they both had been constantly reaction to outer threats, here in Heaven they are safe and with Michael so quiet and wearing a solemn expression on his face it's up to him to take the initiative.

"I want to check the wards before we retreat," Michael says and runs a finger over a pillar. Sparks fly and for a moment Lucifer can see something like circuit lighting up and than fading away. It doesn't take a lot to guess that these are protective spells, so old and complicated that it's impossible to break into Heaven.

There's a reason why Lucifer had to stick to Earth during the Apocalypse. God shut him out and it's a miracle that Michael got him inside. Well, there's probably no one who knows so much about Heaven than Michael, but for Lucifer it's guesswork.

"Will Metatron notice our presence?"

Lucifer can't sense the little gremlin, but he should be here somewhere. Not that he understand anyway what's Michael's purpose, but he won't complain that they can enjoy a bit of solitude in safety.

"Unlikely." Michael's eyes turn white and he turns his head to the left. Lucifer wouldn't be surprised if his brother is watching Metatron now, spying on him through grace, sound waves and systems already in place. "He's little more than a glorified secretary, but Father took a likening to him a long time ago. I allowed him to live, because he's competent in his field and he will keep our siblings on their toes for now."

"They have grown complacent over the years." Lucifer sneers. "No of them were impressive during the Apocalypse."

Lucifer doesn't mention Castiel. The only meeting he had with his son. Alone and face to face. Even back then Castiel's loyalty had impressed him. Or at least been the reason why he didn't smote him on the spot. Even back then there had been something about Castiel. A level of recognition, perhaps? Lucifer studies Michael and he's grateful that his brother is still struggling with the influx of grace. He still doesn't know how Castiel came into being. How Michael created him. If it had been easy, hard or difficult.

A part of him wants to ask. Wants to shake Michael until he's confessing all the answer Lucifer needs. The questions are burning at the back of his mind and the day will come, where he can't ignore them any longer. Yet Michael won't be forthcoming with answers. Not quickly and if Lucifer didn't love his brother so much, he'd disregard any objection Michael could have. With a bit of creativity he could force Michael into revealing information.

What stops him is that he doesn't want to harm Michael. Right now he looks more fragile than ever, though Lucifer questions how that's possible with so much grace running through the other Archangel's veins.

It's a penchant for vulnerability, perhaps. A character trait Lucifer forgot during the war.

Showing weakness, especially the emotional kind, has always been a trouble for the oldest Archangel. He used to be better at it. He used to be able to confess fears to Raphael, small hopes and dreams to Gabriel. He had friends, for the lack of a better term. Lucifer wonders what happen to the angel's, whose sole purpose it was to guard Michael. To delegate responsibility and attention away from God's mightiest servant. Did they all die? Did Michael drove them away?

He can't remember seeing anyone of them during the Apocalypse. Something must have happened to them or else Castiel would have never been able to throw holy fire into Michael's face.

"I wanted them to start over," Michael mumbles. More to himself than to Lucifer. "None of them think that angel have free will. That we can do what we want or act, because our beliefs demand it from us. Instead they try to justify it with God's Will and do it anyway."

There have been hints before and Lucifer ignored them, but it becomes more and more apparent that Michael has been steering the Angel into a certain direction. For Ages probably, the Apocalypse and banishing the Creator from Heaven are hardly isolated events. Yet the more Lucifer thinks about it, the more it seems that jumping with him into the cage is a plan that has been a long time in the making.

An ugly emotion twists in his stomach and Lucifer hates the turmoil his grace is in. He wants to lash out, tear into his brother like he used to.

But the sorrow in Michael's eyes as he turns around to stare at him matches Lucifer's own age-old misery

"We have never been free," Michael says. There's a distance of three wingspans between them. Too far to touch and yet close enough to imagine how it would feel like if they did.

It's the state they had been in during the last millennia. It's almost a habit now, to keep his distance and stay away.

But ... Lucifer remembers how Michael's touches felt. How he had been pressed against the next available surface again and again until Michael satisfied his desires. Not that satisfaction lasted very long. Lucifer remembers how his brother whined and groaned, when he had his cock in his mouth. When he teased Michael to the point, where he snarled like prehistoric animal.

The Michael he's facing now ... looks exactly like someone, who is suffering from depression paired with the knowledge that suicide is pointless. For how do you kill yourself, when there are ways to bring you back? And an army of siblings willing to sacrifice themselves in order to make it happen?

Horror creeps into Lucifer's mind right now to the innermost core of his soul.

Michael didn't jump into the cage, because he wanted to make peace with Lucifer.

The despair in Michael's eyes tells him that his brother expected him to win the fight. On Earth and within Heaven Michael would have always won, but in Hell Lucifer has all the advantages. With a little motivation he could have found an opening. Beat Michael, gain the upper hand and ... Lucifer breath stutters as he imagines Michael kneeling in front of him. Battered. Broken. Empty.

Did Michael expect me to reach for his grace? The questions runs through his mind like ice, colder than anything he has ever come in touch with. Since I am the only one capable of using it?

Since Michael is still frozen on his spot, projecting his misery through his grace and makes no move to snap out of it, Lucifer makes a decision. Determination floods through him and with sure steps he walks up to his brother. To his oldest companion, his lover and his best friend. They used to be close and he refuses to loose this. Now when they have finally reached the stage they never dared to dream of before.

"We are free now. That's all that matters, Michael." Lucifer wants to hug Michael, wrap his grace around him and engulf him to sooth the fires with his ice. "We have come so far, so you worked so hard to give us a chance. Don't throw it away, just because you are afraid."

Finally the wings move and wrap themselves around them like a cocoon. Lucifer hopes the cold, unfeeling grace the host left behind only latched on Michael's doubts and amplified what was already there. The thought of possibly loosing Michael is unbearable, even more that it could have happened while Lucifer was trapped in hell. Unaware and unseeing, learning of his brother's fate far too late to prevent it. For Michael could have found a way to end his life if he truly wanted.

There's always the option of ripping out your grace and becoming human. Not that Lucifer understands siblings who choose this way, but the pain must be indescribable.

"Will ... will you stay?" Michael's voice is a whisper, yet his fear carries over well enough. "I won't ... I can't go through this a second time."

Lucifer nods silent, but determined. Of course there will be struggles down the road. Sooner or later the Host will learn of Michael's return and sooner or later Michael will want to return to the side of their younger siblings. He was made to guide them, to take care of them. Though he doubts that his care will do them any good right now, Lucifer will swear to God himself that the Host feels as he does.

That Michael is the best of them. Their leader and their protector.

"I'm not leaving you. Never again as long as you will have me," Lucifer says. The war will remain an aching wound between them, but it helps to know that Michael suffered as much as he did.

It won't be easy, convincing the Host of his good intentions. But Lucifer wants to make it work. Michael deserves as much.

Light, warmth and a glimmer of hope returns into Michael's eyes. As if he can't believe it yet that Lucifer is truly back.

"Get me out of this vessel," the Morningstar demands and presses himself against Michael's larger frame. "I want to feel you. Trust me, there won't be any room for doubts as soon as you're so deep inside me that you will have trouble finding your way back."

"With pleasure," Michael rumbles.

Then he claims Lucifer's mouth and with practised ease he directs the movements, rejoices in the way Lucifer melts into his touch. Completing him instead of fighting and resisting. Which is partly due, because Lucifer is unable to fight back right now. Whatever grace he has access to, it cannot compare to the power within Michael's grasp. He gasps into the kiss, when hands roam over his body. They remind him how much closer they could be and suddenly the power imbalance becomes hilariously unimportant.

Michael always been capable of killing him. Killing them all if he just desired to do so. The thought makes him hard and horny.

"Bed," Lucifer breathes against Michael's lips. "I need you to take me to a bed."

The older Archangel grins, looking a bit better than he did an hour ago.


Chapter Text

In the end it took them awhile to find a place that suited their purposes. There aren't many places angels consider living places, since most of such activities happen within a communinity. There are gardens, public bathes and gardens to mediate. Lucifer has forgotten how open Heaven could be. Rooms with doors are a rarity, locking themselves inside is an unnatural instinct for them. Even the prison cells only have bars and windows on the other side. Remembering that is a little difficult for Lucifer. It reminds how inhuman the treatment in hell is in truth. For the souls, for demons who will never find redemption, because they can't be trusted not to exploit even the slightest mercy.

God locked me away. Lucifer has trouble comprehending that it probably wasn't Michael's intention to throw the cage into Hell.

The cage had bars as well. It would've been enough to hold him. Held him for millienia, but what made the punshiment nearly unbearable wasn't just the separation from Michael. It was also the location itself. After having gotten used to the depths of hell, the true nature of his home is saddening. No wonder he wasn't able to convince Sam to be his vessel. He had forgotten what it feels like to be accepted. To move freely without having to hide your face, your shame and your sins.

Those still exist, but with Michael at his side they feel less gruesome. There's nothing left to confess. They may not know all each other secrets, but whatever they haven't talked about so far isn't important enough to pull them apart. Even the location of their father has become secondary. God doesn't matter anymore.

Not with Lucifer back home and having Michael right in front of him. Naked, glorious and finally returning to his senses.

"I found a place, where we can stay," Michael says and spreads his wings, lifting them into the air to fly to a remote part of Heaven.

It's not the most beautiful place, far away from the gardens and the center, where God's throne lays. But it's surrounded by his stars, which is enough for Lucifer. For Michael the deciding factor is probably that the quarters look unused. No grace of younger sibling lingers here, long lost or otherwise. Which Lucifer can get behind, because he is possessive of his brother. They lived through so much, have been connected since the beginning that he doesn't want outsiders to pry.

"Can please hurry?" Lucifer slides his mouth over Michael's skin. It's maddening that his human teeth are not enough to leave marks on Michael's skin.

A chuckle is the response. Hands travel over his naked flesh and linger on his back. "Why should we? We have time, little brother. And I think you prefer that I do this right."

Lucifer groans as Michael drags him into the bath. Well, bath as it was made for angels. No water in sight, instead Michael rolls his shoulders and his forms gets a bit fuzzy around the edges. Grace is pouring out and he can't help but stare at the ease Michael commands as he steps into a waterfall made of stardust. Humans would call it a shower, but for angels it serves to straighten out their grace. It can get into knots very easily, especially if you use it too long, too often and suddenly you have less at your disposal than you thought.

"Do you want me to fall through space?" Lucifer points at the edge. Michael maybe able to float, but he doesn't want to risk it.

On earth he'd be still one of the powerful creatures, but there he simply could move time, space and matter around without doing any heaving lifting. Trapped in a vessel up here in Heaven is a complication. Not long and he will fall apart or get sick, because human bodies aren't meant to go to Heaven. Human Souls are another matter entirely. They're so close to grace that it's undeniable that come from the same creator.

Lucifer wants to scoff. Humans and Angels being Half-siblings, what a strange tought.

"I will not let you fall," Michael says and offers Lucifer his hand. He's not sure if his brother is aware of the double meaning, but he trusts him. The last ... years ... in the cage tore open so many wounds that Lucifer knows every ugly truth in Michael's heart.

When he hesitates for a moment, Michael adds, "I just want to hold you."

Their hands connect and Lucifer falls into the embrace. He uses the opportunity to cling to Michael. It feels like stepping into a void and his human vessel's senses are trying to warn him. Knowing you're not in danger and believing it are vastly different things, especially when you have spent millenia in hell and expect the shower to burn like acid. Despite his expectations the star water doesn't hurt. Instead Lucifer moans and sacks against his brother's torso. For Michael the temperature must feel cool and soothing. For him it's luke warm, slowly thawing the coldest and cruelest ice inside him.

It's perfect. It feel like coming home.

The only thing that hinders him from enjoying the moment is the itch on his back.

"I have good news and bad news, which do you want to hear first?" Michael says after he washes Lucifer's back.

"You used to ask that when you only had bad news." Lucifer sighs, tired. His vessel is aching. He wants to spread his wings, but it's impossible. They're trapped inside his body and it's becoming bothersome. "Out with it. What kind of seal is it?"

"An egyptian deathcurse."

"Oh fuck me sideways," Lucifer mumbles and lets his forehead rest on his chins as he crawls out of the water. He's sitting at the edge of the pool, waiting for Michael to do the same. He twists his neck in order to look at his brother properly. "Truly? Are you sure? Crowley isn't even old enough to have invented the brand himself, so what makes you think it's a geniue one."

Warm, calloused fingers run over his skin and trace the hieroglyphs. It had taken Michael a minute to properly discern what they said, but thankfully the egyptian script is far more distinctive than old runes. Those had been switched out far too often throughout history, not ot mention that humanity often got them wrong these days. Up until the point where it became difficult to discern between the intentions behind the spells and what the writing actually said.

"At least it has been done properly. The brand is neat and has been done correctly," Michael says. It doesn't please him to watch his brother suffer. The seal on his back would've been awful and agonizing for anyone else. The only reason why Lucifer isn't whimpering in pain, is because is used to it.

Crowley will pay, Michael swears to himself. He will pay for this. Dearly.

Call him overbearing, yet when it came to protecting his family Michael allowed no room for mistakes or second chances.

"What does it say?" Lucifer hisses as pain flares down his spine. He squirms and hopes Michael won't paralyze him on accident.

"Do you remember how obsessed the egyptians were with death and rebirth?" Michael asks and presses his hand flat against the back. Usually that gesture would enough for Lucifer to get either very aroused or incredibly uncomfortable. The cage was never the right place to groom your wings.

But despite the feeling of raw power flowing into his back, Lucifer groans softly at the thought of Michael burying his fingers into his feathers. They haven't this since ... before the war? Lucifer isn't sure. As Archangels they don't have to take care of their wings as their younger siblings have to. They have enough pairs to make up for it in case one gets invested or broken. Michael used to be the most famous case of just cutting the wing of instead of letting it heal properly. It had always taken a stern lecture to remind him not to do it in front of young, impressionable fledlings.

Though the feathers they acquired from Michael cleaning house had always been put to good use.

"Just tell me how to get rid of this." Lucifer's lips tremble. He's still sitting on the cold hard stone at the edge of the pool while Michael is still emerged in the water. Without his brother to lean against, he has nothing to focus on and the soft burning touch wakens his wings inside his vessel. They shift and try to span out. But without being able to, the sensations are searching for a different outlet.

Lucifer feels how he's getting hard between his legs and thinks that it's probably a good thing that there's not much of a difference between pain and pleasure. At least not, when it comes to him.

He moans as Michael pushes grace under his skin. It burns and tingles ... and Lucifer hates that he can't climb on Michael's lap to ride out.

"Your vessel has to die," Michael informs him and pokes him into the ribs.

"Ah, fuck this." Lucifer curses. He can't see the brand and peeking over his own shoulder doesn't work. Not in this form at least, but Michael is so kind to summon a copy of the seal branded into this back. he studies it for a few moments, but it's like Michael said. Egyptian. "These people knew far too much about spellwork. No other civilisation got it right so often and over such a long period of time."

"They reigned more or less peacefully for more than three thousand years. Longer, if you count the early years before they settled around the nile," Michael comments. "We had more contact with humanity back then. The one-god only religions that came later actually made it harder to interact with humanity for us."

Lucifer hums as Michael keeps inspecting the brand and tries to unravel his vessel from his grace. It's tedious work and if it weren't for the long years in hell, Lucifer would be screaming. For now it's bearable and he lets Michael do his work. To distract himself, he thinks about his brother just told him. From the cage he got a good look what happened on the surface, but he often had trouble keeping track of Heaven's hidden agendas. He doesn't know what kind of projects had been important to Michael in the last millenia, aside from the most well known ones.

"Is that Father's fault?" He wants to know. The more he considers the option, the more it makes sense. "Did he want to gain influence again?"

Michael's face darkens. He interrupts his careful prodding, afraid he will hurt Lucifer.

"I think so. It was far easier for us to interact with the Egyptians, the Greek and the Romans than with the judeo-christian societies. Not that we ever wanted to rule humanity, but if you look at the recent history than it becomes obvious how Father tried to steer them into his direction."

Lucifer takes in Michael's dark expression. There he is, the leader of Heaven's Armies and the mighty general. Humanities protector, despite what the opinion of their siblings might be. Then he thinks about the state humanity is in, thinks about the last few hundred years.

"It's not your fault, Michael," he says. His back is itching, but he ignores it. So far he hasn't been able to pinpoint when exactly Michael made his move against Father, but if he has to guess then it had to be around the 17th century.

Around then humanity slowly broke away from the fanatic worship the church demanded from them. Strange that they returned to science and more logical thinking after that. Had the Creator stiffled the evolution of humanity on purpose? Compared to the antiquity, the middle ages threw back humanity into the time where they were truly little better than the apes the used to be. Even now, nearly three hundred years later they still struggled to make up for the progress they lost.

Lucifer never thought about it, but from this point of view it becomes obvious that their father tried to rule humanity in the way he failed to do with the angels.

"I cast Father out of Heaven, when I noticed that he interacted with humanity directly. It was the last time Gabriel sided with us and I never thought anything about it until Jesus was born." The growl on Michael's face is almost frightening, but given how depressed he looked just a few hours ago Lucifer prefers his brother's anger. "From that point on Father still had enough power and influence to govern humanity almost uncontested. He learned how to be reborn among humanity while keeping most of his powers and for centuries I had to watch him rule without being able to do anything about it."

It doesn't take a lot to guess how their father ruled. Anyone who has ever visited Rome and the Vatican knew that it resembled Heaven to a frightening degree. Lucifer bets he could pinpoint which of the many, many popes througout history had either been possessed by his father or directed through visions the very least.

"What changed?" Lucifer wants to know. It doesn't take a lot to guess that the two world wars had been a cover or the fallout for the war raging between Michael and their Father. If two celestial powers fought, even if it's just indirectly, the shift inenvitably disrupted humanity. An idea crosses Lucifer's mind. "Is the fight against father the reason why our true vessels were born in America?"

Despite advertsing and the famous 'God bless Amercia' that continent is a almost untouched by their father's machinations. It hadn't surprised him that the Apocalypse was supposed to happen there instead of Europe. Heaven would've had a greater advantage over there simply through the countless old and magnificent churches, the blessed historic locations and remnants of religious orders that could've paved the Host the way to the battlefield. Far better than it the younger country, whose people are stubborn, moody and often acted on erratic whimps.

"I wanted to start over," Michael sighs. "Manipulating the bloodlines were a necessary evil in order to have Sam and Dean be born and I feel sorry for possibly ruining another region for generations thanks to our war, but Europe is just recovering from the last time I interferred."

"Was it worth it?" Lucifer hates the restrictions placed upon him more or and more, but he understands his brother on a fundamental level anyway. They worked through far worse conditions, even with their father conspiring against them. "Are you winning against father? Is he slowly loosing more and more power? Is he about to fade into obscurity and spends his days mourning the fat years of glory and worship?"

For a moment Michael doesn't say anything. Then his eyes narrow and go distant as if he's checking on their father's location. Lucifer isn't sure if he wants to know where their father currently lives. It would be too tempting and he has other, more important things to do.

Than Michael finally nods.

"I think so, yes. The Apocalypse took a lot of out him. Especially since I build it in a manner that would drain him every time he interfered," Michael says. The sly grin on his face tells Lucifer that Michael counted on God's meddling. Laid out opporunities too good to pass up.

Like moving Sam and Dean out of reach the moment I broke free, Lucifer muses.

"Good," Lucifer purrs and pulls Michael closer. "Now get me out of this as fast as possible. I want to reward you. Our victory over our father should be celebrated, if you get what I mean."

It's a pleasure to watch Michael's eyes go dark and transform into the ancient, powerful creature he is.


Chapter Text

There are exactly two solutions for Lucifer's vessel dilemma. Despite Michael's best attempts to pry his brother's grace loose, it's still stuck. Entangled in the brand and it's not going away on it's own. A normal angel might be grounded forever and the more Lucifer thinks about it, the more likely it is that the seal on his back is a variant of spell written on the angel tablet. Still, he's not keen on walking everywhere for the rest of his life.

"So you can either kill me or you can fuck me out of my vessel, did I get that right?" Lucifer asks, groaning as he hits the bed.

They finally made it out of the bath after having spent hours just sitting there and making out. Sucking Michael's tongue into his mouth, licking his lips and avoiding the less than human teeth on occasion had been exciting. Thrilling in a way, since there was still the physical barrier between them. There are reasons why human and angels rarely match in sexual encounters. It's never fair for one party. For a while Lucifer found it interesting to explore the limits of his human body, but thanks to Michael's touch he got frustrated very quickly.

Right now he's ready to crawl out of his own skin if necessary.

"I leave that up to you," Michael says. He plants his hand on Lucifer's chest. Thanks to their height difference it almost covers his entire torso.

It's ridiculous how easily Michael can hold him down. During their usual encounters they're evenly matched, though Lucifer likes it when Michael takes control. But it's rarely the case that his brother utterly dominates him without Lucifer explicitly inviting him to do so. Often it's the act of surrendering that drives Michael to fuck him hard. It's the show of trust that spurns them both on. Even or perhaps especially down in the cage, where they had no choice to trust each other or fall apart entirely.

Like this, with Michael almost twice as tall as he is, Lucifer feels like has if he has to lift a planet sitting on his chest.

A part of him is even a little frightened how it's supposed to work. He cranks his neck and glances down. Michael's shaft is hard ... and big. Not bigger than usual, but certainly very large compared to Lucifer's form right now.

It'd be safer just to let Michael burn his vessel away. They studied the seal long enough, it requires a mortal death of the vessel and then the soul will be separated from the flesh.

"I say it's tempting. The size difference reminds of me of some stuff we did when we were young," Lucifer says and bites back a groan as the other hand trails over his inner thigh.

The growl Michael lets out is low, but it still shakes Lucifer to his core. The raw power makes even him dizzy and he's not even connected to his older brother. Maybe it's the lack of connection that drives to take such risk and open his legs wide for Michael to settle between. It feels too much like the days in the cage, where he could see, hear, smell and even brush against the edges of reality but not connect with the real world.

"You were far too young back then," Michael whispers, but the dark desire in his voice indicates that he doesn't regret his actions of introducing his brother to sex at a young age. He bends to spread kisses over Lucifer's flesh. "You were so small and fragile. And so eager to please me. I can still remember how tight you were."

Their eyes connect and Lucifer knows that Michael would back off in an instant. They don't want to hurt each other. That's the baseline they established down at the cage. For this alone the trip back down after fighting so long to get free has been worth it. Yet Michael would have to, if he digs through Lucifer's flesh to get his grace out. Engulfing him with Michael's grace and tear the vessel away atom by atom is an option as well, but Lucifer confessed that he can't predict his responses with that one. He might panic due to feeling trapped and stopping the ritual midway through is out of question.

No, the safest and easiest way is to burn let Lucifer burn his way free from the inside.

"I thoroughly enjoyed myself in those days, dear brother." The devil lies down and gets comfortable. Usually they don't have to take their time, they trust to know each others boundaries and it's not a secret that Lucifer likes it a little rough. But neither wants to risk serious injuries right now. Lucifer stuffs a pillow under his neck. "I hope haven't forgotten all the little tricks you had to use to get me ready."

Michael's chuckle is open and carefree, his grin bright enough to outshine all suns in the universe and Lucifer's chest tightens that this just for him. They haven't even started yet and it's already too much.

"Don't fear, I have a good memory," Michael murmurs and disappears between Lucifer's legs.


There's nothing hotter than the concentrated look on Michael's face as Lucifer lets out a high whine and licks his brother's fingers clean. Or rather, he tries to since the wetness is running down is entire arm. Chasing over a drop that threatens to fall down on the sheets Lucifer acts quickly and licks it up. All while never breaking eye contact with his brother.

"Mik'hail, I need you inside me." Lucifer is pulling Michael closer again, going out of his mind because there's too much space between them. "I can't feel you like I'm supposed to."

"Soon," Michael murmurs, but his voice is strained. Not because of unfulfilled desire, no that's just a side-effect this time. Just as Lucifer he longs for the connection that they used to share and every heartbeat they're not joined turns into an eternity. Especially, when the other is so close, when they naked skin is sliding against the other it's still not enough. Michael's hard shaft prods at Lucifer's entrance. It's wet and the sheets beneath the devil are ruined, since Michael was through in preparing him. Opening him up with his fingers, taking an hour for each finger he added until he could fit his entire hand inside.

As result Lucifer is wrecked. He has come, the evidence is splattered over his stomach and has yet to find the release he longs for.

When his brother finally climbs above him, judging for one last time that he is slick and open enough for them to try, Lucifer digs his fingernails into Michael's shoulders and leaves bruises behind as the head of the cock breaches his rim. There will be scratches on Michael's back and Lucifer isn't imaging the blood beneath his fingernails, but it's only fair given that he has to grit his teeth together. For it hurts, god damnit.

Lucifer tries to breath and balls his hands into fists, clinging to the sheets, but hells Michael is big. Almost too large for him to take. It's overwhelming. The hard shaft sinks into him and not even halfway Michael has to stop to give Lucifer a break. Fingers run gently through his damp hair and despite the pain it robs Lucifer his breath again, when Michael pulls back.

"No, come back." Lucifer tries to wrap his legs around Michael's waist as his brother pulls out. The feeling of loss and being empty is even worse than the pain. "Push it back inside, I ... I can..."

Rather he will take all the pain in the world and smile through it than endure Michael's absence any longer.

"You shouldn't have to," Michael murmurs and kisses Lucifer again. A distraction as his hips push forwards and this time it's easier. This time Lucifer yields to the magnificent stretch. The oldest Archangel holds his younger brother as he's sinker deeper. "It should feel good soon enough."

"It already does. It's amazing." Lucifer is panting even though his voice is a little strained.

He looks down, reaching between them and his hand touches his belly. He knows Michael isn't truly here on the physical side of the plane, but he imagines that he can feel the head of his dick poking against his belly. From the inside. Stars, a part of him wants to see it happen instead of just feeling like he's slit apart.

A curse leaves his lips as Michael puts his legs over his shoulders. Lucifer squeezes his eyes shut, hanging between pain and pleasure and Michael isn't even moving yet. Just shifting their bodies for a better position.

In an attempt to spur his brother on a little, Lucifer attempts to clench around his brother's dick, long and tight just as he likes it, only to discover that he can't. The resulting moan is long and wretched, the way he arches his back mesmerizing as Lucifer realizes that Michael is too big. His muscles of his human vessels can't contract around the intrusion.

"Fuck, fuck, yes," Lucifer whimpers. It still hurts, but it might be still the best sex he ever had.

Especially since Michael isn't truly moving, only using his grace and his power to push more of himself inside his brother. It burns where their bodies meet, one human and one angelic. It should be too much, but soon Lucifer feels how Michael's grace crawls into him, up his spine and around his heart. Cradles his neck and down his legs, making his toes curls. Lucifer wishes he could come from this, but physical release is not the point in all of this.

He sobs as Michael's grace brushes against his own, somehow and so very deep. He falls into deeper ecstasy as a tendril of grace brushes against his wings. They flutter, quiver in their confinings and somewhere in the back of his mind Lucifer is aware that his human vessel is smouldering. Falling apart from inside out, because no spell and no seal can stand their combined power.

It's beautiful, never ending bliss as Michael shifts them around, goes from pushing his brother into the sheets to letting his little brother straddle him. Lucifer cries out as he takes in the last inches of Michael's cock and with a single downward push it becomes too much. It's beyond what the senses of his human vessel can bear.

"Lucifel, my star," Michael whispers with so much adoration in his voice that Lucifer wants to tell him that he's not worth so much devotion. But he doesn't have the breath to stop him. Instead he fights against the spell restraining him. His wings are trying to fan out. He's lighting up from the inside, focusing on becoming the angel he once was instead of remaining the devil Crowley wanted him to be.

"Please, please," Lucifer moans and tries to ride his brother. It's still not the point of this whole endeavour, but he can't help himself when it feels so fucking good. "Please, Michael."

He needs ... something. One last push, one last proof that this is real.

"Heylel. I love you," Michael says and brings his right hand up to cradle his brother's face. The other hand steadies them, makes sure that they don't fall over, because Lucifer's movements are getting frantic. But the disbelief, the desperation in his brother's eyes have different motivation. They long for Michael to say the words again and yet fear that they might not be true.

Michael repeats and holds onto Lucifer's ass, his fingertips brushing against the part where they are joint, "I love you, brother. Always have, always will."

The words are enough to push Lucifer over the edge. He falls apart, doesn't fight it anymore as his wings bursts from his back and his grace burns away the man that once listened to the name 'Nick'. The devil is unravelling, losing entire layers which he acquired in hell until only the Archangel remains.