Chapter Text
Each breath he took, in and out, felt like fire was being inhaled into his lungs.
In. Out. In. Out.
Lucifer was no stranger to pain, even prior to his Fall, he led God's armies. On the front lines as he was, many times he was wounded, many times he'd been stabbed, cursed, bitten, burned. And after his Fall, after his wings had been cut from his back, and the Infernal Magicks of Hell fused with him, he had thought nothing could ever eclipse that pain. That humiliation.
He'd been wrong. So very wrong.
In the years he's reigned over Hell, Lilith has always been by his side, has always been there as his confidant, as his one Love, as his best friend. But most importantly, Lilith had always been the one to deal with the Sinners. If one were to glimpse the way they had ruled over Hell, one could make the assumption that Hell was divided; where Lilith reigned and held power over the Sinners, and Lucifer ruled and rubbed elbows with the Hellborn and Sins. To put it simply, Lucifer had never quite been put in danger of the Sinners, because Lilith had been their Queen, always by his side, always ready to intervene and keep his secret safe.
But Lilith was gone; she left and with her, she took the protection she had always afforded him.
Lucifer groaned, his gaze half-lidded as he stared at the floor of the...box he was in. He could hear voices above him, cheering, shouting; noise that didn't bring him any of the joy the people above him seemed to feel.
Free Will. That was the gift he gave to humanity; the gift of Choice. His punishment for that, the life he's suffered for that choice he made, it's given him clarity.
"Is this..what you wanted me to understand, Father?" Lucifer rasped into the empty room. He shuddered when he felt that electric tingle start to nip at his skin.
It wasn't like this was the first time he had realized it, the blight that was Sinners. They were vile, an affront to Heaven. When he gave humanity the push they needed for Free Will, for the right to choose their own destiny, this wasn't what he had wanted. An abomination, that's what they were.
Lilith had seen something in Sinners, she had seen them as her people, she had loved them. Many times, she had tried to make him see the wonder that those human souls were, she had sung to him about how curious they were. How wronged they were.
Wronged? He had given them Choice. This was their choice. Sin. No matter how hard he tried, Lucifer could not understand his wife, he could not understand her love for the absolute garbage of humanity. Perhaps that was because, at his core, Lucifer was an Angel, and Lilith was a human. Being Fallen — it was different for Lucifer, as opposed to other angels, like...Charlie's girlfriend for instance. She was a simple angel, her status as an exorcist was irrelevant. That was a title, not something that offered her power or otherwise. Lucifer was an Archangel; nothing could take that from Lucifer, not even being kicked out of Heaven. That power was his and his alone; his Virtue, his title, his rank. The only thing they could take from him was his connection to Heaven. To Him.
Ergo, his ideology would always be that of an Archangel. Humans were curious things, yes, and Lucifer, even now, was curious about them in turn. But those that Sinned, those dirty, disgusting, tainted souls; Lucifer found them repulsive.
Charlie had been slowly pushing his mindset to hers, if only because he had seen that some Sinners seemed to have slight redeeming qualities.
But after this? Lucifer was reminded why he had such an aversion to Sinners.
Lucifer flinched when the box — was it a box? — started to amp up again. It felt as though he was being drained of everything he was worth. That first go had taken more of his Angelic Grace than it should have, it was wrong. Abnormal.
"Oh, shit! The bad tingles are back! The bad tingles are back!"
For all that Lucifer was an all powerful being of insurmountable wisdom and intelligence, there was only so much he could take. It would be different if this were regular torture; that, Lucifer could endure. He was made to endure everything a human could not. But he was being drained of his very Grace. It was being taken from him faster than it could regenerate, so to speak. He could feel it beneath his skin, buzzing, beginning to fight back. For though Lucifer was a Fallen Angel, Archangels may well have been a different species altogether. In the event of an Archangel being on the brink of 'Death', their innate Magic will do all that it could to protect the body it inhabits, Archangels could not die, it was impossible, but they could be brought to the brink. Draining them of their Angelic Magic would, in theory, make this possible; but it was only a theory. It was impossible to drain Archangel of their Power, let alone the Morning Star, the embodiment of Creation.
It should have been impossible.
How was this possible? How could this be happening? Hadn't he suffered enough?
Lucifer screamed, desperate, scared, pained. He couldn't take it anymore. Anymore of this and he would—
The tears that welled in his eyes, dribbled down his flushed cheeks. His screams, the agony and desperation in them, caused what little Angelic Grace he had left to react to his needs.
All Archangels had the ability to do this, to call out to each other, in the event that they were too far from one another for their Connection to work. Lucifer could not do this, he had lost this ability to call out to his brothers the moment his wings were clipped and he was thrown from the Pearly Gates.
Through sheer force of desperate stubborn will, though, that Call managed to get through his piercing, high-pitched screams. Lucifer's gold magic slithered around him as his wails of agony tapered off into strained whimpers. He couldn't quite focus anymore.
Lucifer blinked, trying to keep himself awake and aware. He couldn't afford to let himself pass out now; not when that vile TV Sinner could come back; who knew what else he planned to do?
He must have blacked out, despite his best efforts, because when he became aware next, the cables that had buried themselves in his skin were gone, and the power that had been radiating in his cell had depleted. Lucifer coughed, and to his horror, blood spat from his mouth and dribbled down his lips. He stared at the gold splatter on the sterile white floor for a long time, but before he could get lost in his head, something...tingled in the back of his head. It wasn't painful, nor did it feel like someone trying to read his mind, it was more of a...curious probe. It took Lucifer longer than it should have, for him to connect the dots and understand why that feeling felt so familiar.
It wasn't possible. It shouldn't—
But then, so many 'impossible' things had been happening as of recent, right? Least of which being the impossibility of a lowly scrape of shit being able to drain him of his Heavenly Powers.
In his delusional, barely conscious state, Lucifer pushed back against that inquiry. He wouldn't have done this if he had all his mental faculties present; not out of resentment or anger, although those emotions were still there. It was because he would have been far more wary, more skeptical. Lucifer had been cut off from Heaven, from his Seraphim, from his brother's Seraphim, from his brothers. Everyone. His connection had been severed.
Yet, that little inquiry was the emotions from someone not himself. In fact, if Lucifer were able to focus more, he would have been able to identify it as Raphael, with little, faint notes from others.
The bond between his fellow Archs that he had been cut off from.
His weak attempt at getting his feelings across, through the extremely strained Connection seemed to work. At least, Lucifer assumed it did, because he felt a burning rage fill him that wasn't his own, followed by a sense of calm being pushed over the bond, likely not for his sake. But it did help him from panicking. He was starting to feel claustrophobic.
Still, maybe he shouldn't have responded to the curious push, because he really wasn't sure what he had gotten across. Well, he could regret that later.
All of a sudden, Lucifer was filled with a wave of warmth; it tingled and stung somewhat. Again, it should have been impossible for them to share their Magic, if not because the bond was strained and fraying by the second.
The presence of Michael's Magic was undeniable, though. It had always been the most compatible with his own, and that didn't seem to have changed overly much, even despite Lucifer's apparent Infernal Magic trying to actively reject the Magical infusion. In the end, his dormant Angelic Magic won out. He could only assume that, anyway, given the unexpected rush of strength he felt. It didn't do much to help his own Magic, though; he still felt like a wrung out rag.
But that little bit of strength was enough for Lucifer to break the restraints keeping his arms and legs captive. And if not for that strength, and that buzzing in the back of his head, little notes of reassurance and worry in equal measures tinkling through his sluggish mind, he would have collapsed right then and there. As it were, Lucifer brought back his arm and, pushing down the wave of dizziness that threatened to overcome him, he punched a hole straight through the glass that had been taunting him since his capture. It cracked with little resistance, and the whole thing shattered around his hand. It was unfortunate that his hand immediately started bleeding; copious amounts of blood seeping from the wound. Lucifer hissed, internally cursing the TV head man once more, because his body wasn't healing him immediately as it should. His Magic always healed him instantaneously, without him even needing to think about it. But at the moment, his Magic felt far away, like it was buried. Muted. Lucifer hated it. He hadn't been cut off from his Magic ever. He was Magic. To be so disconnected from it, it was foreign to him. Upsetting.
Lucifer stumbled out of the box-egg-thing, stepping on shattered glass. He looked up, searching for some sort of exit; he needed out. He was starting to hyperventilate.
The manhole was a relief, and when he climbed out of it, only falling a..few times, that relief was insurmountable.
"Dad?"
Was that his Char-Char? Lucifer looked up as he stumbled, feeling tingles run through his body as he tried to focus, tired to look for his daughter's beautiful face.
"Don't go down there!" Lucifer attempted to caution his Apple Pie, when he finally caught sight of her. She looked so pretty in that dress; he wanted to tell her that.
With his vision swimming, Lucifer wobbled. "It's a place of pain." The rest of what he wanted to say died on his lips as he finally collapsed face first into the ground. Not even the increasingly worried probing of his brothers, or what he assumed were his brothers, could get Lucifer to even pick up his head. Nor Charlie shaking him and calling out his name.
What kind of father was he, letting his daughter see him like this?
It really was his stubborn will that had Lucifer pushing himself up, trying to smile reassuringly at the Apple of his Eye. It really shouldn't have surprised him when his Char-Char was distracted by...Lucifer blinked at the bright screen displaying a..snake? He looked familiar, Lucifer just couldn't put his finger on why. His swimming vision wasn't helping.
His Charlie had always been easily distracted, even by the littlest of things; Lucifer had adored her for it, because she was just like him. Right now, when Lucifer was on the brink of passing out, though, he couldn't help but be a little hurt. It barely even registered, the concerned looks Vaggie was giving him. That was her name, Right? Vaggie?
Lucifer slumped to the ground, groaning under his breath. It felt like fire was under his veins, eating away at what little Magic was sluggishly making its way through his body. His body trying to heal him, maybe?
"Fuuuck..."
He looked up, Charlie's name on the tip of his tongue, only for panic to seize him when he didn't see his daughter or her girlfriend. Looking around, Lucifer went to stand, only to stop when he saw Charlie and Vaggie talking to people—Sinners. While he was teetering on the edge of consciousness. Lucifer blinked, unable to quite comprehend what he was looking at.
The Devil doubled over as bile rose in his throat, but what came out wasn't bile at all, but blood. Well. That wasn't good. Lucifer chuckled, only a little hysterically.
Lucifer thought he had finally passed out when everything was bathed in golden light. Holy Light. He must have finally lost the fight with consciousness, or he was finally losing it. Either was possible, but one was more likely than the other. He assumed he hadn't completely lost it, if only because people were screaming and panicking.
When the Light faded, Lucifer didn't open his eyes, any of them; even though he was curious. And very wary. Hell was never this silent, yet there was absolute silence. For all of ten seconds.
Slumped against a table, or what he assumed was a table, the Morning Star had one clawed hand pressed against his pounding head, whilst the other was pressed against his mouth, in hopes that that would halt any more blood from coming up. All of this was why Lucifer didn't quite notice how that buzzing in the back of his head had become louder, more solid; more real. And also why he didn't notice the footsteps running towards him until there were arms already around him, hands touching him, voices speaking.
Immediately, Lucifer's eyes snapped open. He instinctively tried to use his Magic, it was second nature, to wield it in defense of himself. It didn't come to his call. Lucifer started to panic.
"-ifer..Lu—"
His chest heaved, a feeling of dread seizing him. Blood burst from his mouth, it burned.
"Father above — Samael! Sammy, look at me, please? Breathe, that's it."
The name, that name, Lucifer hadn't heard it in...so long. He could count on hand the amount of people that knew it in Hell. When Sinners came to Hell, they all assumed that his name had always been Lucifer, that that was the name he had been given by Him. It was true that 'Lucifer' was a name that had always been with him, for he was the Almighty's Lightbringer, but that was not the name he had been gifted with. The name He gave him.
Only Lilith and the Sins knew of that name. Well, Cain knew, but he so rarely saw Cain, that his name didn't immediately come to him for that list. Zestial may know as well, but that wasn't because Lucifer told him. At least, Lucifer couldn't recall telling him; he just knew that once upon a time Cain and Zestial were inseparable, so it made sense that Zestial would know things other Sinners did not. In fact, Zestial was the only Sinner Lucifer was tolerant of; one could even make the assumption he was fond of him. Ha—
"You're drifting Sammy, focus please. Are you sure he isn't concussed, Raph?" Said an exasperated voice. A very familiar exasperated voice.
Lucifer had to force himself to focus on the present, pushing away his wandering thoughts for a later date. The first thing he noticed was the low murmuring of people, many people, and the second thing he noticed, was that he couldn't see those people. Those Sinners.
The third thing, was that there was a body behind him; someone tall. His back was pressed against this person's chest, and their hands were on him, holding him up. Now, Lucifer had come to hate physical contact. Years of self imposed isolation did that to a person. So naturally, his first instinct was to struggle and spit profanities at the person touching him without his permission.
Of course, he had no energy for that. He was completely drained. His intentions seemed to make it across to the person holding him, because they sighed deeply.
"Stop squirming, Songbird, you're only going to make your injuries worse, you've already thrown up on Michael. I would prefer not to have your blood upon my person as well."
Songbird. Songbird? No one called him that. Not anymore. And of the people who had once called him that, there was only one that had such a soft voice—
"Raph?" Lucifer croaked out. His voice was scratchy, and it positively burned his throat to use it. He tilted his head back, the back of his head bumping against a sturdy chest. Lucifer blinked rapidly, trying to will his eyes to focus on the face above him.
Light colored baby pink eyes stared down at him, pupilless. The sclera was identical to his own, gold, but where Lucifer had purple eyelids, Raph's were forest green. What clued Lucifer in that he was looking at Raphael, and not, say, Uriel, was not only his pink pupilless eyes, but also the color of his eyelids. Just like Lucifer looked identical to Michael, Raphael had always looked nigh identical to Uriel. The only way to tell them apart was the fact that Uriel had blazing orange eyes that appeared red in some lighting, and the fact his eyelids were a deep red. The height, too, Raph was slightly taller than Uriel, but from where Lucifer was sitting, literally, that wasn't something he could use to tell the difference between them.
Soft looking green lips curved into a smile at Lucifer's voice. Was Raphael still into painting his lips green? He was such a fucking diva...they all were, actually.
"Oh, there you are." His words were teasing, but the Morning Star could pick up the subtle notes of deep relief in his voice. Or...maybe that was the bond? He could feel it more clearly now; it felt like it was actively getting stronger by the second. "You had us worried."
Us?
It shouldn't have taken him this long to truly realize that it wasn't just Raphael that had come. It was embarrassing. Lucifer slowly raised his head, his eyes sluggishly flickering over the two figures kneeling in front of him, blocking his line of sight of the Sinners.
On the right was an angel that looked uncannily like Lucifer, and when he had been Samael, that same angel had been his copy and paste, so to speak. Rosy pink cheeks, like they all had, with lips set in a serious, grim line. Deep blue eyes stared into his eyes, swimming with all the emotions that didn't show on his face. Unlike Lucifer's gold sclera, that angel's were a baby blue. Aside from that, though, he was an exact copy and paste of Lucifer. Even their eyelids were the same color, their height, the same.
The only thing that had always been different between them, was their halos. Even more so now, considering Lucifer's main halo had formed into the snake that was always curled around his hat, and his secondary halo had broken during the fall and went on to form his horns. Michael, the halo that floated over the front of his hair and wrapped around to the back of his head, his largest halo, was completely white and looked less like a halo and more like a crown of Light. His second halo, the smaller one that floated above his head, was like liquid gold, constantly swirling, as if there were a ladle that was always stirring it. And like all Archangels, there were multiple Eyes within the front of that halo. They didn't move with the flowing gold, on the contrary, those Eyes were glued on Lucifer; flickering all over his body. Michael had a shoulder-blade length cloak draped over his shoulders, white, with gold shoulder plates. A red bow was clasped around his neck, with a gold star in the center of it. The star that Samael had given him before Eden was even a thought. It wasn't a broach; it was a Star, one of only two that Samael had not put in the sky. Lucifer had the second one, a blue one, and like the one Michael had, it swirled and glittered with Stardust.
He had thought Michael would surely throw it away after he had thrown Lucifer from Heaven.
Michael's pants were flowy, ruffled, white with light blues at the ends of them. They didn't cover his legs, in fact, if Michael weren't wearing black pants, his legs would have been on display for all to see. Lucifer wasn't surprised to see the gold colored heeled shoes Michael wore; they all wore heals.
Michael's hair had always been curlier than his, and with the way his bangs were draped over his forehead, the way the tips curled against Michael's cheeks, it was more apparent than ever.
Lucifer's gaze slid from Michael to the left, where the other angel was knelt. That ridiculous mop of wavy, extremely light blonde hair would be recognizable to Lucifer even if he were blind. He had spent centuries trying to brush and manage that hair into something elegant. It had been a lost cause, he could see that now. Stupid peacock.
Gabriel and Michael had similar eyes, their sclera both being a light, baby blue. But where Michael had deep, pupilless blue eyes, Gabriel had light colored Cyan eyes. Somehow, though, his hair wasn't just wavy, it was curly, too; far more curlier than Michael's. The only one who had a lighter color of blond hair, however, was Uriel. It was technically blond, but it was so light that it almost appeared white.
The Divine Messenger also had purple eyelids, but they were just a shade lighter than Lucifer and Michael's. Once upon a time, it had been hard to tell Gabriel and Michael apart, but given that Gabriel had gone on to be the tallest Archangel among them, it wasn't so hard to tell them apart anymore.
Unsurprisingly to Lucifer, Gabriel was dressed in a white robe that faded to a light green near the bottom. His sleeves, cut off at the shoulders, were light blue. Draped over his shoulders was a dark blue stole, like, the thing priests wore. Unlike priests, it didn't go down to his knees, rather, it only draped over his chest. The back of it, on the other had, cascaded down Gabriel's back and, presumably cut off at his calf.
Underneath the stole, was a sleeveless, forest green..vest? Lucifer honestly wasn't sure what that was, his brain wasn't at full capacity at the moment. But he could make out the same colored green sash wrapped snuggly around Gabriel's waist, it was obnoxiously big. He never could understand why his baby brother liked dressing like a peacock. Ever since the animal was created, Gabe had been obsessed with the things; the white ones specifically.
And then there were Gabriel's halos; the one floating around his head, somehow managing to fit around that nest of hair he had, was like a floating white cloud. Like Michael's, it moved as if it were alive, but unlike Michael's liquid gold, Gabriel's moved like water; rippling and swaying with his movements. The cloud-like halo curved in the front, connecting into a downward star, and above that star, nestled in Gabriel's hair, was a gold crown that was identical to the one Lucifer wore on his hat. On that halo were, three Eyes, though they weren't focused on Lucifer; rather, they were looking off to the side, at something Lucifer couldn't see.
Gabriel's second halo was simple, a large, thin green ring that looked more like it was behind the Archangel's head, rather than above it.
"What in Father's name happened, Samael?" Lucifer's head snapped to Michael, his eyes narrowing on the Archangel's form. Staring at him now, though, Lucifer didn't see the angel that cut off his wings and went on to take his place in leading Heaven's armies, no, what he saw was his baby brother begging to know what could have hurt him so. His baby brother looking to him for answers.
"Michael!" Raphael reprimanded, his brows drawing together.
Lucifer would have waved away Raphael's scolding, like he would have centuries ago, directing Raph's attention onto him and not Michael; but a sudden bout of hacking overtook Lucifer.
He didn't even notice the shift in the air until he heard Michael's voice shouting a distance away. Batting away Raphael's hand, Lucifer looked up, only to start when he saw Michael had descended upon the crowd Sinners and was demanding answers.
The problem was, Lucifer was pretty sure that spider Sinner was one of his daughter's residents.
"What happened to him?! You will tell me, or I swear upon the Almighty Father's name I shall—"
"What the fuck?! Let him go!"
"Put him down!"
"Angie!"
"Sir Michael?"
Ah..yeah, that was Lucifer's worry proved right. Damnit Michael.
"Help me stand up." Lucifer grumbled to Raphael, already moving to stand up on his own. He wasn't scared that the Sinners would hurt Michael, why would he be? He had trained the Archangel into the soldier he was today, he knew Michael was more than capable of taking out half of Hell with just one swing of his sword. That, in itself, was where the problem lay. His Char-Char would never forgive him if he let his sword-happy brother smite the Sinners of Hell, let alone one of her friends.
"You shouldn't be standing, Sa—" Raphael halted when Lucifer almost collapsed back onto the ground. All at once, one of Raphael's arms was against his back, whilst the angel's other hand grabbed his arm, steadying him. "You haven't changed overly much."
Lucifer decidedly ignored Raphael's snark and focused on wobbling his way to Michael. Gabriel, the little shit, was standing a step or two behind Michael, with his hands clasped behind his back, not doing anything to stop Michael from pulling out his Flaming sword from literal thin air. Michael's wings were flared out around him, all six feathered appendages. The feathers were as light blue as the Archangel's sclera was, however around the edges, they were lined with deep blue feathers. Now, Lucifer couldn't see it, because Michael's back was facing him, but he knew damn well that the angel's Eyes were all open. All Archangels had Eyes on their wings. Lucifer did too, but he never opened them, rather, he opened the ones in his coattails. The only reason he even had Eyes in his coattails, was because his clothes were made from his Magic, therefore, they were apart of him.
Michael had...uh...Mary Jane? No, that wasn't right. Angel Dust? That sounded right...maybe. Michael had Angel Dust by the throat, his clawed fingers wrapped around the porn star's thin neck; and in his left hand was his Holy Sword, already Flaming in that blue, almost white Light.
When Lucifer finally reached him, Charlie had already rushed over and was about to touch Michael, to pry his hands off of Angel Dust; with Vaggie trying to stop her. Charlie was very obviously ignoring her girlfriend. The Devil grabbed Michael's arm before Charlie could, and circumvented the disaster that would have come from that desperate move on his daughter's part.
"Fucking damnit, Michael, drop him! You're not going to get answers from him, he had nothing to do with this." Lucifer was honestly entirely vexed that Michael was making him defend a Sinner.
Michael never turned to look at him, but he could see the eyes in his halo flicker towards him. Lucifer narrowed his eyes. It was silent for a moment, before the sword vanished from Michael's hand, and he dropped Angel Dust to the ground. Lucifer would have been amused at the way Michael's nose crinkled, as if he had just stepped on a particularly squishy pile of dog shit, if not for the fact that his vision began to swim in that exact moment.
Falling forward, Lucifer expected to hit the ground, face first, like he had earlier, but that wasn't what happened. He fell face first into Michael, who had turned swiftly to face him when he had started to sway precariously. Arms wrapped around him, warm, safe. He could hear shouting around him, could feel hands touching him. Lucifer couldn't muster up the energy to care at the moment. He felt safe, in a way he hadn't felt in...years. So many years.
"Samael!"
"Sir?!"
"Your Majesty!"
"Dad!"
Lucifer's eyes fell shut, he didn't even notice.