Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The work never seemed to end. The worrying, and writing, all of it was exhausting. Day after day, papers and proposals and new projects piled up. The ever growing stacks spilled off of the desk and had started to amass on the floor. No matter how many papers were read, signatures scrawled, files filled, twice as many new ones took their place the next day. And the student council wasn’t the only source of stress. Diavolo always had new ideas to chase and new bills to write, and somebody had to proofread and edit and oversee the plans. But it wasn’t all the work in or out of school that bothered him the most. It was his brothers.

Lucifer sat at his desk, the bedroom dark except for the lamp next to him. The files and papers that begged to be sorted and attended to cast long shadows on the walls and loomed all around him, like walls. The silence weighed heavily on him, only broken by the pitter patter of rain against his window. He let his head fall into his hands, pressing his cool palms against his forehead in an attempt to soothe his growing headache. He sighed heavily.

Not a day went by where they were thrusting themselves into some sort of drama or causing problems or getting themselves caught in trouble. It was almost comical, the trouble they caused. At least it would be, if Lucifer didn’t have to swoop in and fix everything.

Satan, flying into a rage working at the RAD library every time a book was returned dog-eared or mistreated. It was a miracle he wasn’t fired daily. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get through to Satan. Nothing he said would ever calm him down. Instead, it always seemed to make things worse. They had always had their issues between each other, but lately there seemed to be more animosity and venom in the words Satan would throw at him, and it was getting increasingly difficult to calm his own tongue.

And Belphegor, always a complaint with the professors for his lack of effort or general direction towards his education. Lucifer always tried to prioritize the importance of schooling, but it seemed to just fly over his head. It was infuriating to watch Belphie’s laziness strip away any semblance of a higher education Lucifer tried to provide and encourage. It had only gotten worse as he got older. Once a bright-eyed child, his occasional naps slowly started to turn into long hours spent in bed, and now it seemed like Belphegor could spend days on end locked in his room. Lucifer tried to help in the only way he knew how, to keep pushing and punishing, just like how he had been raised. But the harder he pushed, the further away Belphie seemed.

Then there was Beelzebub. His ravenous hunger would get him in trouble everywhere he went. It didn’t matter if something was edible or not, Beel would eat it regardless. Lucifer couldn’t count the number of times he had to be rushed to the hospital for unintentional poisoning. Even if he knew it could be dangerous, Beel wouldn’t hesitate to eat it. He had no regard for his safety, no self preservation. Lucifer had tried to teach Beel, but it was no use. Doctors and specialists had warned him time and time again about Beel’s dangerous eating habits, but Beel never listened to anything they had to say.

Not to mention the trouble with Asmodeus. He was thriving off the attention he got from his social media accounts, and yet he wasn’t careful enough with who or what he posted. He overshared, posted private information and was careless about who he interacted with. It garnered a lot of attention from the wrong kinds of people. Lucifer had to deal with Asmo’s stalkers showing up to their house, taking pictures, and following him everywhere he went. And not to mention the blackmail. Asmo’s private life was something that a lot of demons sought to take advantage of. It tore a lot of friendships and relationships Amso held dear. His bubbly personality and outgoingness had faded over the past few years. Not everyone approved of the life he chose to live and they let him know. Threats and blackmail had gotten so bad at one point that Asmo refused to leave the house for months, scared that they would hurt him. Lucifer worried about Amso’s safety every time he stepped out of the house.

Leviathan was another kind of worrisome. He had never been one to make friends as a child, and his growing obsession with video games and fictional characters kept him from trying as he grew older. He would rarely leave the house, and he had trouble talking to anybody outside of their family. His aversion towards Lucifer could never really understand what captivated his younger brother, with 2D characters and games, so he tried to be open minded the best he could. But it troubled him, watching his brother curl in on himself. He wasn’t even willing to put himself out into the world anymore. He felt more disconnected than ever, like he was having trouble connecting with his own brother.

And then there was Mammon…

Mammon was different from the rest of the brothers, somehow. His trouble never ended. No amount of lectures could stop him or deter him from getting in way over his head. He was always getting in with the wrong crowd. He was the wild child, the black sheep of the family. He could barely hold a passing grade at RAD, he had retaken more classes than Lucifer could count, always pushing himself deeper and deeper in debt with his reckless spending habits, owing the wrong people money, gambling away any semblance of wealth he got, stealing and theft to feed his addictions and debts… that wasn’t even the half of it. His behavior had to be the most self-destructive of all. No amount of yelling, scolding, punishing, or lecturing even made a dent. And it was only getting worse. Fighting, getting in trouble with the law, gambling. Lucifer knew what kind of crowd that attracted, and he was helpless to stop it. Mammon was so naive. It was almost like he couldn’t see the manipulation and the danger before it hit him square in the face, no matter how many times it happened. Over and over and over again.

It was getting worse. Mammon’s grades had started slipping worse than they ever had before. He wasn’t showing up to classes. He was barely home anymore, and if he was, it was hidden in his room. Lucifer wasn’t even sure he was coming to meals anymore. Any time he tried to bring it up, Mammon would get defensive, start yelling. It would turn into a fight.

Lucifer folded his arms and buried his head, his breath hitching. He was supposed to be their protector. He was the one who was supposed to keep everyone safe. Perfect, obedient, protector Lucifer. And yet he was failing at the one single most important job he would ever have. He felt more alone and disconnected from them, more so than he had ever felt. It was like watching water slip through his fingers. No matter how tightly he held, it would drain and drip until there was nothing left. He was at a loss. He wanted to help, he wanted to help so badly, but no matter how many times he would swoop in and fix things, nothing changed, and they grew further and further apart.

A tightness was growing in his chest. His throat burned and he swallowed hard. Fallen angel, disgraced, failed brother. He remembered how they used to look at him, when they were younger. Their bright eyes, their happy smiles. They were happy to see him. Now, their eyes were distant, their smiles empty.

Just for one day, just for one day he wanted everything to be fine again. He wanted his brothers to look at him like they did all those years ago. He pressed his arms tighter around his head, his breath jagged. A soft, nasty voice spoke in the back of his mind, his body tensing.

“You know they’ll never see you the same way again, don’t you? And you know the reason why.” He shook his head, trying to shake away the thought.

“No…” he muttered softly, scrunching his eyes shut, trying to push the voice away.

“Oh, but you do know,” the voice came again, a mocking tone creeping in. It laughed in the back of his mind. “You know exactly why. You’ve sat by and watched it happen slowly, ever so slowly. And you can’t do a single thing about it. All you’ve done is sit back and let it happen right in front of your eyes.”

“I don’t…” he tried to say to himself, to reassure himself, but his voice caught in his throat. The room suddenly seemed very cold. He shivered and pulled in tighter on himself.

“It’s all your fault,” the voice hissed. It was getting louder. His head pounded. His heart thundered in his chest. “It was always you. You’re pushing them away. They hate you. They’re all hurting because of you. They hate you. They hate you! THEY HATE YOU–”

“I KNOW!” Lucifer burst out, slamming the desk with both hands. His voice sounded deafening in the dark, empty room. He stared blankly and slackjaw at the empty room for a moment before slowly slouching back in his chair. He let his head fall back with a soft thud. His breath was uneven, his hands shaking where he gripped a fistfull of his pants tightly. He swallowed thickly, trying to push the rising feeling of panic in his chest back down.

He sat there for a long time, his thoughts a whirlwind in his mind. He wished a lot of things in those long moments, looking but not seeing anything. He wished things were different. He wished he had done better. He wished he could be there for them. He wished they trusted. He wished… he wished… he wished…

He couldn’t help getting after them. He had been berated and yelled at and abused growing up. He didn’t know how else to get through to them, and he hated himself for it. He hated that he let the hate and abuse he had endured continue. Their carelessness and disregard for the rules, their blatant disrespect for him, it always lit a fire in him. He had been conditioned to obey from birth. Breaking the rules was not even a thought. The freedom his brothers felt, even the fact that they got to break the rules, made him jealous and angry. He felt helpless against his own emotions. He loved his brothers, and yet he always hurt them.

He didn’t hate them. Not even close. He loved his brothers so dearly it made his heart ache. And yet they would never know how much he cared for them. Pride kept his mouth shut and his own family at arms length. Love was weakness, care was flaw, attachment was failure. He tugged at the roots of his hair, letting his forehead fall onto the cold, smooth wooden desk. The strong, determined, unshaken mask he had put on all those years ago, the one he used to hide the hurt and the anguish and the struggle from his young brothers was segmented in stone. Cold and unwavering. He didn’t know how to take it off anymore. Not for them, not for Diavolo, not for himself. He felt alienated in his own skin.

Who was he?

He hardly recognized himself in the mirror anymore. There was a look behind his eyes that gave him chills every time he saw his reflection. It was… distant. It was strange. Often he would find himself sitting in the attic where he kept the things from Heaven he couldn’t bear to part with. Stupid, useless things that had more meaning to him than he could express words for. And the photographs. A strange, heavy feeling settled in his stomach every time he opened the small wooden box, the only object in that whole room that wasn’t covered in dust.

It was a collection of pictures from when they were younger. He would sort through them once every couple of decades just to remember. So he didn’t forget. He looked so much more alive back then. Despite everything the archangels put him through, he could still smile. Because he had his brothers with him. That was all that mattered to Lucifer. Protecting his brothers from the anger and the coldness and the neglect. If they felt loved, if they had the opportunity to be happy, that was all that mattered.

Lucifer choked back tears. But they weren’t happy now, were they? He didn’t make them feel loved, accepted. Despite his best efforts, the harshness the other angels inflicted on him pushed through. Why was changing so hard? Why, when it was the thing he wanted most in the world, to see them happy again, did he always manage to go and fuck it up?

He hated himself for it.

He hated and he never let them see. Hide and deny and push it down because vulnerability is weakness, and weakness is death.

His thoughts were spiraling out of control. A hurricane in his mind, flooding his thoughts, drowning him. He felt like he was drowning. Drowning on dry land. And yet he couldn’t breathe. Drowning. It felt like he was dying.

A buzz and a flash of light jerked him out of his downward spiral. His phone, lying face up on his desk, lit up with a notification. He hastily wiped his face with his sleeve and looked at the screen.

A missed call. From Mammon. Mammon never called. They hardly spoke now, and he never called. Panic spiked in his chest. The flutter of dread and anxiety spread from his chest to his stomach, into his whole body. A million images flashed in his mind, of hurt, of bruises, of tears and pain.

It had to be bad, bad enough for Mammon to call.

Lucifer dialed back, gripping the phone hard enough to turn his knuckles white as he held it up to his ear. He waited in the agonizing silence of his cold, dark room, listening to the ring. His legs were restless, his lungs tight. No response. The call went to voicemail. He called again. Twice. Three times. Four.

Still, nothing.

Panic seized him.

He pushed up from his chair so quickly it was sent toppling to the floor with a crash. Where was he? Where could he be? Was he hurt? What was happening? He threw open the door and dashed down the stairs two at a time. He didn’t remember grabbing his keys until he was slamming them into the ignition.

Before he knew it, he was sweeping the city streets, desperately looking for anywhere Mammon might be, anywhere at all. Back alleys, bars, casino parking lots. Every place he checked that turned up empty made his pulse quickened.

Lucifer stopped in an empty parking lot. His breath was quick and shallow. Where? He had checked everywhere he could think of. The rain picked up, drumming heavily on the windshield, blurring the streetlights. Thunder rumbled in the distance, low and ominous. He gripped the steering wheel hard, looking uselessly around the empty parking lot. The ache in his chest grew more intense with every passing second.

“Think! Think, God damn you!” he yelled at himself, slamming his fist against the wheel. He startled himself by the force. But nobody had seen him. He had checked every bar, every alley he knew Mammon hung around. The casinos hadn’t said a word. Some claimed they hadn’t seen him in days. Others laughed and joked that Mammon probably ended up in the river. He broke the man’s jaw without a second thought.

He gritted his teeth together until his jaw started to ache. Lightning rippled in the dark sky, drawing long and distorted shadows in the car. Large drops rained down in heavy sheets, thick and harsh. Moments later, thunder rumbled overhead like the growl of a beast.

Slowly sitting up in his seat, an idea slowly formed in his head. Thunder. Mammon had always hated storms. The first time there had been a thunderstorm since they arrived in the Devildom, Mammon had run out of the house. Vanished completely. The way the storm rumbled and shook the large house had terrified him, so he ran and hid… hid…

He slammed the car into gear, tires squealing on the wet pavement. He turned off the main road, nearly skidding out of control. He didn’t care. He pressed harder on the gas peddle, slowly watching the meter tick up dangerously high. The highway underpass on the outskirts of the city.

It was barely visible, hidden by the dark sky and two large condemned buildings. They were crumbling, defaced with graffiti and weathered. A lonely streetlamp glowed yellow in the heavy rain, rippling and flickering in the storm.

Lucifer came to a screeching halt in front of the buildings, barely remembering to put the car in park before he jumped out. The engine hummed, forgotten. The freezing rain pelted his skin. Desperately, his eyes searched the darkness for anything, anyone. His heart beat violently in his ears. He had to strain his eyes to find a hooded figure huddling in the shadows of the underpass.

Slow steps quickly turned into a full sprint as he ran towards the hooded figure. He nearly slipped on the slick concrete, throwing himself down on his knees and gripped the figure’s shoulders tightly. Words formed and died in his throat when he was finally able to see his brother’s face. He could feel his heart shatter like glass at the sight.

Mammon was absolutely drenched. His grey hoodie was soaked through, almost black. His hood was pulled up, trying to hide his face. He wouldn’t look up at Lucifer. His shoulders were pulled up to his ears, guarded and on edge. His eye was blackened and bruised. A deep gash ran along the side of his face, blood trickling down, mixing with droplets of rain. His lip was split, and it pulled back into a grimace. More and more bruises and scrapes and cuts seemed to blossom on his skin the longer Lucifer looked. Mammon took a raspy breath, and flinched.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” Mammon sneered softly, barely glancing at his older brother. Lucifer sat frozen for a long moment. A deep chill that had nothing to do with the rain turned his blood to ice. His voice cracked when he tried to speak.

“Are you okay–” he began, but Mammon cut him off with a snarl.

“Oh, so now ya care, huh?” His voice dripped with resentment and venom. His face contorted into a twisted smile, his voice rising. “This is what it takes to get ya to see me? This is the only way to get ya to listen?”

Lucifer could only stare, slack jawed. In that moment, Lucifer couldn’t help but see his little brother reflected in those eyes. The same boy that was scared of the dark, who would crawl into his arms during a thunderstorm, who would run to him with a scraped knee and tears in his eyes. He may have looked older now, but behind the bruises and silence, Lucifer could see that scared child, lost, afraid to reach out. Even if pride had pushed them apart, he was still here, turning to his brother, just like he always had. Mammon took the beat of silence and pushed on, getting louder.

“Fuck up after fuck up, and all ya do is yell. Ya won’t even stop for a secon’ to listen to me! You–”

Mammon cut off with a strangled yelp. Lucifer pulled him in tightly despite the wet clothes, the bloodstains, the trembling. He held his little brother against his chest, his throat burning. Mammon stiffens immediately, tensing like a corned animal. He struggled and pushed against his older brother, but there wasn’t much strength behind it. Then he started to shake. From cold, or pain, or something deeper, it didn’t matter. Lucifer held him tightly.

“I don’t want yer pity,” Mammon spat, but his voice cracked at the end, losing all intensity and hate. Lucifer didn’t let go.

“I’m so sorry,” Lucifer said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He felt Mammon tense up again. Those were words they had never said to each other before.

“This isn’t pity,” he pressed on, his voice wobbly. “You’re my brother. And I was terrified.”

Mammon scoffed. “Yeah, well. Not terrified enough to notice I was gone for hours, right?”

Lucifer flinched. He deserved that. He deserved that and more. Much more. He took a shaky breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

“You’re right. I wasn’t there for you. I should have noticed, and I hate myself that I didn’t.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Mammon didn’t reply. But he didn’t pull away either. The underpass felt quiet, the rain muffled by the thick concrete walls and the weight of unspoken apologies and regrets and pain that hung in the air between them. Lucifer pulled back ever so slightly, searching his brother’s eyes.

The soft yellow glow of the streetlamp caught the coppery glint of blood trickling down Mammon’s cheek from the gash. With a trembling hand, his thumb gently reached up and brushed the drops away, just like he used to do when Mammon would skin his knee and cry in his shirt.

“Who did this to you?” Lucifer breathed the question. Mammon’s gaze refused to find his own. His swollen and red eyes drifted downward, his fingers curling into the wet fabric of Lucifer’s coat. His bottom lip quivered, but he stayed silent.

A long silence passed before he spoke, so softly it was barely audible.

“They told me I was worth more dead than alive.”

Something snapped in Lucifer’s chest. It didn’t shatter, it was so much more intense. Like something giving out. Crushing under the weight. Like a dam cracking, and a huge wave of emotion washed over him like floodwater, and just as icy. He squeezed Mammon tighter, too tight. His voice came out weak and shaky, almost a plea.

“You are not. Don’t you ever say that again. Don’t even think that for a second.”

Again, Mammon was silent. But his body relaxed ever so slightly, leaning deeper into the embrace. He pressed his head against Lucifer’s collarbone, his body twitching with jagged breaths. The fight and the tension in him was gone now, not defeated, but exhausted. He was tired. Lucifer could feel it in the way the sobs racked his body, the way he trembled in his arms.

He was tired. And he had been for a long time now.

Lucifer’s hand found its way to the back of Mammon’s head, cradling it gently like he used to when they were younger. He held his little brother in his arms, firmly but gently. Tears of his own ran down his cheeks. He held him the same way he had all those years ago when life was still golden and hopeful, and now he held him after it had broken.

“You called me,” Lucifer finally managed, swallowing hard. “You called me when you were scared, when everything was falling apart, when you thought I hated you… You still called me.”

“Yeah,” Mammon mumbled back, his voice soft and low. “ ‘Cause I knew you’d come.”

Lucifer closed his eyes. His breath hitched. This wasn’t a fix. It wasn’t forgiveness. But it was a start.

Chapter Text

The rain had faded to a soft drum against the windshield. The steady beat melted away the last of the adrenaline that coursed through Lucifer’s veins. The longer they drove, the heavier his body started to feel. It felt like he had a lead weight on his chest that would never quite let him catch a full breath. The worst of the storm had passed, the rumbles of thunder and streaks of lightning far off in the distance. It was quiet in the car, only the low hum of the engine to be heard.

Neither spoke. Mammon was curled up in the passenger's seat, his hood pulled deeply over his head, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest, shivering ever so slightly. His eyes never left the dark streets. There was a set in his jaw, a tension that saddened Lucifer. One he knew all too well. The far away expression of reliving the pain, feeling every blow and bruise, watching it happen all over again. He hated that his brother had to know that expression.

But he didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t pry or push or dig any deeper. Mammon would tell him when he was ready. If he was ready. He didn’t scold or lecture. For once, he just let it be. There were some things that didn’t need to be spoken. The best thing he could think to do was let Mammon know he wasn’t alone.

Before he knew it, the House of Laminations loomed in front of them, dark and quiet in the early hours of the morning. He was glad for the peace. Neither of them would do well with more chaos or worried looks.

Lucifer stopped the car in the driveway and pulled the keys out of the ignition. Mammon made no move to get out, didn’t give any indication that he knew they had stopped. He stared at the droplets of rain streak down the window. His breathing still hadn’t really returned to normal, but now that was a calmer, more mellow tone in his voice.

“...I never wanted to make you worry,” he said slowly, still not turning to face his brother. There was a dull tiredness that hung in the edges of his voice, rough and raw. He picked at the cuff of his sleeve, pulling his legs closer to his chest.

Wordlessly, Lucifer gently rested his hand on Mammon’s shoulder, who flinched slightly at the contact. They didn’t look at each other.

“I will always worry about you. I’ll always come and find,” he said. “Always.”

Mammon didn’t respond. But he did nod his head. Just once.

And so they sat in heavy silence, neither quite ready to face the other. The longer they sat, the more the chill from the rain set in. Both of them were soaked. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but the adrenaline had numbed him to the cold. Now even Lucifer started to shiver.

“We should go inside,” Lucifer said after a moment, his voice loud in the silence.

Mammon jumped, but didn’t move from his spot against the window. Neither did Lucifer. The quiet stretched on again for a long time.

“You’ll get sick if you don’t go inside,” he said, softer this time as he turned to finally look at his brother again.

Stepping out of the car, he waited for Mammon to do the same. Now outside again, the gentle wind was biting. He could feel it in his bones. He tugged his coat tighter around himself as he made his way to the passengers side.

He gently knocked on the window. The door eventually popped open. In the faint glow of the porch light, Mammon looked even worse than he had under the bridge. The bruises were deepening, dark and splotchy. There were deep circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in days. Swallowing hard, Lucifer wondered if he had.

Mammon didn’t look up as he stepped out of the car. He gave a startled grunt the second he stood up as he lurched forward, one of his legs giving out. Lucifer barely managed to catch him before he hit the ground, one hand grabbing a fistful of hoodie. Ducking under one arm, Lucifer slung it over his shoulder. Mammon tried to shrug it off, but the stern look from Lucifer settled him. The pair slowly limped their way up the sidewalk and inside.

The soaked hoodie was discarded on the floor as they made their way into the entryway. Mammon’s white undershirt was blotched with bloodstains, the collar and one of the sleeves torn. A dark red mark that circled around his neck made Lucifer’s stomach twist. He gritted his teeth and said nothing. Mammon grimaced as he sat down gingerly on one of the stools in the kitchen, letting out a low groan. Lucifer moved out of the room and returned moments later with a first aid kit.

“Let me see,” Lucifer said, sitting across from his brother. Mammon eyed him carefully. Lucifer looked at him expectantly, holding out his own hands. Hesitantly, Mammon let Lucifer take his hands and examine them. The knuckles were split, dried blood crusting and cracking as he flexed his fingers. Dark and swollen bruises ran along the ridges of the knuckles, making him flinch when Lucifer brushed his fingers softly over the marks.

Lucifer worked slowly and carefully. He dabbed alcohol on the cuts. Mammon flinched hard, but he didn’t pull away.

“I shouldn’t have called…” he mumbled, shaking his head. His hands balled into fists. “I should have just handled it on my own.”

“No.” Lucifer said quickly, much harsher than he intended it to be. He took a quick breath and went on, more gently this time. “No. I wish you would have called me sooner.”

A sharp, barkinging laugh startled him, drawing his eyes up. Mammon shook his head, a bitter smile spreading across his lips.

“Right, so you could chew me out.” He laughed again, dry and hollow. “Tell me it’s my fault. That I was stupid, brought it on myself. Just like you always do.”

Lucifer paused and waited for Mammon to look him in the eye. It took a long while before their gaze finally met. For once, all the sharpness, defensiveness, the pride was gone. He took in the whole of the man that sat in front of him. He was so much like the little boy Lucifer once knew, but at the same time that little boy was gone. He was still vulnerable, but there was a guarded, wary look in his eyes. He had come to his older brother for help, but with reluctance and uncertainty. He needed help but would never admit to it out loud. So much and yet nothing at all had changed.

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer said. A strange feeling crept into his throat, but he pushed it away. It was an effort just to get the words out. Words that he hardly had the courage to say. Words that made him feel weak, exposed. But he pressed on. “I’m sorry for all the things I’ve said. For making you feel like you were alone. That you couldn’t come to me.”

Mammon’s eyes widened, stunned. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, before finally settling back into his chair without a word. A strange expression washed over his face, one that Lucifer couldn’t quite place. It was like looking at a fawn, trapped on a frozen lake. Unable to stand on their own two feet, but cautious and fearful of the farmer who wanted to help. Like he would rather freeze to death on the ice than accept the hand that extended towards him.

Wrapping the last of the bandages, Lucifer went on carefully.

“None of this is your fault. You’ve been going down this spiral for so long now. I should have been there to help you, to pull you out. But I wasn’t.” He had to pause. His eyes fluttered closed as he took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t have had to go through this alone. You are not a ‘screw-up’, I don’t like it when you say that. I’m… I’m the one who’s failed you. Not the other way around.”

All Mammon could do was stare, that same puzzled, hopeful and nervous look on his face. He looked from Lucifer to the bandages. He turned his hands over, tracing the gauze with his eyes. His lip was quivering again. The dark circles under his eyes were more evident than ever against his tan skin, his eyebrows slowly knitting together.

“I don’t…” Mammon started, but his voice faltered. Lucifer waited patiently for his brother to regain his nerve. The one thing they never allowed for each other. Patience. He would listen, for once in his life, and not let his own pride get in the way.

“I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself.” His voice was soft, small. “Getting into fights, runnin’ my mouth in front of the wrong people. The gambling and stealing and lying. It’s like… If I’m not causin’ chaos, gettin’ in trouble… I’m not me.”

It felt like a hot knife had been plunged into Lucifer’s back and was slowly being twisted. The way Mammon’s voice shrank, softer and softer, seemed to push the knife harder. Deeper and deeper. Twisting and twisting.

“Like maybe if I act like I don’t care… no one will notice how hopeless I am. That I’m a… a lost cause.” He went on, his voice growing bitter, resentful.

“You are not a lost cause,” Lucifer said firmly, trying to get Mammon to look at him. His voice was tight, but it gutted him on the inside to hear the things his brother was saying. To think he had let Mammon go through all this alone…

“Really?” Mammon said sharply. “ ‘Cause I sure feel like I am. I keep thinking that maybe… Maybe if I fuck up bad enough you’ll all give up on me, and I won’t have to disappoint you guys anymore. Disappoint you.”

“Mammon…” Lucifer said softly, reaching out to grab his brother’s hand. “Who told you that?”

“Nobody has to say it. I can see that way you guys look at me. You think I’m stupid. I’m not like you guys.” He stared at the ground as he spoke, jerking his hand back, shaking. “I’m not smart, I’m not useful. I’m not even strong enough to take care of myself! Nothing I do goes right. All I’m good at is fucking up.”

“You are so much more than that. I will never, ever give up on you,” Lucifer said, his voice cracking worse than it had all night. He tried to steady his voice, but tremors broke through. “Not ever. No matter how many times you fall. No matter how far.”

There were no more tears, Mammon was too tired for that. But his shoulders trembled and his breath hitched.

“...Thanks,” he finally said with a short glance at his brother. “For coming tonight.”

Lucifer reached out again and gently squeezed Mammon’s wrist. He didn’t pull away this time.

Again, the two lapsed into silence. But it wasn’t as heavy this time, looming over them like a shadow. It was more relaxed, more understanding. It wasn’t strained. Eventually, Mammon migrated from the kitchen to the livingroom, curling up on the couch. He fell asleep within minutes. Lucifer followed, settling in an armchair across from his brother.

The early hours of the morning stretched on, long and quiet. But his eyes weren’t on the clock… They rested on the sleeping frame of his brother. His hair was still damp and messy from the rain. Bruises and cuts littered his face, his arms, trailed below his shirt. It made his stomach twist into knots the longer he looked. But the look on his face was calm. There was no pain pinching his eyebrows together, no winces making him clench his jaw tightly. At least in sleep the pain escaped him. His breath was even, slow.

The heaviness of sleep tugged at Lucifer’s eyelids, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Mammon alone, even if it was only sleep. The weight of every unspoken word he wished he could say hung heavily on his shoulders. The guilt was eating him up inside. It shouldn’t have to take a scare as bad as this to finally get through to him.

He swallowed, a sudden pressure building up in his throat. He was flawed. He always had been. He had let this happen. Deep down, it was his fault he had let it get this bad. If he had just stopped for one minute, just one minute to listen, maybe things would be different. But there was nothing he could do about the past anymore. He made a silent promise to himself that he would change. He would listen. He would hear his brothers. See them. He hated himself for letting it get like this, but he swore he would do better. Be a better brother. It was the least that his family deserved.

As minutes ticked into hours, the house creaked under the soft wind. Thunder still rumbled off in the distance, low and faint. Every time his eyelids fluttered closed, he would jerk himself awake. He was terrified that if he closed his eyes for too long, when he opened them Mammon would be gone. Gone, hiding, running.

The familiar squeak of a floorboard upstairs drew his attention. Beelzebub appeared on the stairs, his hair tousled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He yawned slowly and paused when he saw the brothers. Slowly he came to stand by Lucifer, his eyes falling on Mammon. Lucifer could feel the way his eyes caught on every scratch and mark, his eyes widening the longer he looked.

“Is he going to be okay?” Beel asked, his voice thick with concern.

“He will be,” Lucifer said softly with a nod.

Beel glanced between the two of them. Without another word, he sat down on the floor next to the couch, resting his arms on his knees. Just being there. Being present. Like he always did when someone needed it. No questions. No pressure. Just a quiet understanding, silent support. Lucifer felt a tightness in his throat he didn’t expect.

“Did you notice he was gone?” Lucifer asked finally, breaking the silence. Beel shook his head.

“He’s been gone so much lately. Most days I don’t know if he’s home or not,” he said simply, but there was a hint of guilt in his voice. “He never talked about it either. So I didn’t think anything of it.”

“I found him,” Lucifer said after a long moment. “Under the overpass at the edge of town. The same one he hid under all those years ago.” Beel looked up from where he was resting his chin on his arms with a faint look of surprise.

“All the way out there? You remembered?” He asked.

“How could I forget?” Lucifer chuckled dryly. “We looked for him for hours. We had to get Diavolo involved. I scolded him for days.”

Beel hummed and let his chin fall back down. Lucifer’s dry smile slowly faded. He really had lectured Mammon for days after. Instead of comforting his brother, he had berated him. More guilt swirled in his stomach like a dark mass, growing with every passing second. It was going to consume him from the inside out, eat away at his insides.

“He always runs away when he’s scared, doesn’t he?” Beel said, breaking Lucifer’s stream of thoughts.

“I know.”

“But…” Beel went on, his eyes on Mammon. “He always comes back.”

Lucifer paused for a moment, looking from Beel to Mammon. Even though he thought they hated him, he still called. He still wanted to be found.

“Yeah,” Lucifer said finally. “He does…”

They lapsed into silence, but this time it was more comfortable. More peaceful. Beel let his head rest against the couch, dozing off. Some time later, the blankets began to shift. Mammon stretched out, kicking Beel in the process who gave him a dirty look but said nothing.

“Was I asleep for long?” he asked, sleep still heavy in his voice.

“A few hours, maybe,” Lucifer replied. Mammon hummed in response, wincing as he rubbed his eye. Seemingly from nowhere, Beel produced a protein bar and held it out for Mammon. He looked from the bar to his brother. An actual smile cracked across his lips.

“You keep those in your pajamas?” Beel only shrugged.

“Emergency snacks. You really never know.”

Mammon chucked softly and took the bar, muttering a soft thanks. A small smile pulled at the corners of Lucifer’s lips. At the very least, he was glad to see his brother smile.

“I think…” Lucifer said carefully, drawing Mammon’s attention. “I’ll stay here for the rest of the night… In case the storm comes back.” In case you need me he said with his eyes.

Looking down at the blanket again, Mammon started picking at the strings. A long moment passed where no one said anything. Then, quiet, vulnerable, Mammon spoke up.

“You don’t have to do that… but I’d like that.”

Breathing out a soft breath, Lucifer settled back into his chair. He gave his brother a soft smile, and he could see the way Mammon’s cheek twitched before turning away again. Just being present seemed to put his brother at ease. And Lucifer would let Mammon take as much time as he needed this time.

Beel stood and gave Mammon’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. No words were needed, that alone said enough. Mammon grabbed his hand and squeezed back, a silent thank you.

Finally feeling more at ease, Lucifer let his eyes slide shut. Sleep never came, but he was glad for the rest nonetheless. Some time in the early hours of the morning, he heard the blankets shift, and a faint voice ripple in the silence.

“Hey…” Mammon whispered. Lucifer opened his eyes and turned to him. His brother swallowed hard, his lips pressed tightly together. He took in a shaky breath, almost hesitant.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice cracking just a little when he finally spoke. “For coming to find me.”

Lucifer didn’t speak for a moment, he was afraid the words would get stuck in his throat. Then,

“Always.”