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The depths of the Pit trembled under the force of the eldest's crazed fury. Nearby demons were incinerated by the purity of his Grace. Even after millennia of being in the Cage, he radiated with the light of Heaven. It was a bit more twisted, of course, deep marks and dark cracks betraying his trials. He was a like a wildfire, crackling and burning so bright and fierce that the frozen lower levels of the Pit melted away into tumultuous ripples of molten rock. The demons and beasts of old hid themselves in the cracks and crevices, abandoning their posts and their pride in favor of survival. Even the damned souls high above on the Rack felt the sweltering heat. 

The Archangel tore through his younger brother's Creations with ease, turning their twisted essence to ash with light touch from his blackened fingertips. His gunmetal grey wings flared out behind his back as he rose through the sulfur tainted air, eyes glowing with power. He paused his impulsive rampage when his sibling's voice split through his head. A muted wave of agony accompanied Lucifer's painfilled scream, and his Grace melted another section of wall at the feeling of an almost forgotten being. Michael let out a deep growl and flew. 


Lucifer panted, holding up his hands placatingly toward Amara. The Darkness raised a curious eyebrow. Sweat dripped down Castiel's face, a dribble of blood trickling from his split lip. 

"Okay, look," he said. "I know you have a major beef with me. You probably want to finish me. But you may want to reconsider your position because I could actually be of use to you." 

"Really?" Amara responded. 

"You hadn't considered?" Lucifer stepped away from the wall and walked slowly forward. "We both have an ax to grind with God. I know His soft spots. He can't handle us both." 

The Darkness appeared to be amused, a slight smile tilting her lips up. 

"Do you think for one moment that I would actually consider trusting you for anything? I did trust you. Once. You and my brother conspired against me to seal me away for eons." Amara looked away at the darkened warehouse. 

Lucifer pursed Castiel's lips. He remained silent, mind whirring for an answer. Amara glanced back at him. 

"But you may be right. You might be of some use to me," she said. Lucifer gave her a slow smile and stepped cautiously toward her. He kept his hands spread in a nonthreatening manner in front of Castiel's body. 

"Okay. Good. Now we're talking," he said. 

A grunt escaped his mouth when his back collided with the metal wall again, the air driven from his lungs in his surprise. The Darkness stalked toward him, a smirk on her lips and an elegant hand extended. 

"As God's favorite, His first son, you may be the only thing in Creation that He still cares about." Lucifer fought down the urge to laugh at that. Dad didn't give a shit about him anymore. About anything, really. He hadn't for millennia. "The one thing that will finally make Him show Himself, so I can confront Him and He can acknowledge the wrongs He's done me. And then, He can witness the utter destruction of all His Creation before He Himself is swept away. 

Her dark eyes glistened with something and vengeful, hatred simmering just below the surface. She walked away from him, and he regained his balance. 

"You're expecting Him? Oh. Wow. Well, I wouldn't wait up. I'm pretty sure He caught the last train out," Lucifer told her. 

 The air darkened slightly around him. His Grace pulsed in anticipation. 

"Well... we'll see, won't we?" the Darkness said. 

Amara spun around, and she spread her slender fingers open, palm out. A burst of blinding pain rushed through him. His chest and eyes glowed golden, and his mouth fell open in a scream. 


When Michael landed at the warehouse, the very foundation of the building shook. He didn't bother retraining his anger as it made the earth crumble beneath his vessel's bare feet and gusts of wind whip through the air. The hardwood singed with each step he took took. His wings beat at the air, a low sound escaping his throat. The being wearing a middle aged woman in a black dress with a scandalously styled neckline blinked at him in surprise, taking her hand off his younger sibling. 

Lucifer immediately slumped forward and crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll. His Grace tightened around itself, trembling in pain. Michael flitted in front of her, standing over his fallen brother, fire blazing in his blue eyes. His lance was pressed to her throat. He dug it into the soft skin of her chin. Her pale flesh darkened around the small wound. It healed over again after a few moments. Michael curled his lower wing sets around his younger brother in a protective gesture. 

"Nephew. I thought you were out of commission," she murmured. The Darkness flicked her eyes past him to Lucifer. "Still cleaning up baby brother's messes? Aren't you tired of all that?" 

"Gen ge. Chis i ozien," the Archangel snarled in Enochian, his empty gesturing at his brother. The windows shattered at the sound of his Voice. "Phama teloah." 

"You can't," the Darkness hissed out. "You're not strong enough." 

"Ol quasaba elasa," he replied. 

A sharp thrust had his sword buried deep in her belly. Black power leaked out of her borrowed flesh. The Darkness gasped in shock, eyes widening. He jerked out his blade, sending it into a dimensional pocket with a flick of his wrist. His lance vanished likewise. Michael ignored her threats and curled his fingers around Lucifer's left arm. His wings snapped out, and the pair disappeared from the warehouse in a whirl of heated wind. 

Amara yelled in fury. Tendrils of black smoke erupted from around her long skirt.