To put it quite simply, Lucifer fell.

He fell, and now he was here, in the bowels of Hell, huddled in a cage covered in sigils and warding. Evidently meant to trap something there for a long time.

It was very unpleasant. Hell was like standing in the middle of a hurricane. It roared, it thundered, the air felt like it was attacking. There was smoke and dirt and dust everywhere.

Lucifer knew he'd messed up, more so this time than ever before. His Father has been angry with him before, but never like this. Not ever like this. Of course, he hadn't ever done anything like this until now.

So he sits in the cage, and he waits and wonders. Surely his Father will forgive him, right? He won't leave him here in this dark, unpleasant place.

The sigils are weakening his grace, just enough for it to be uncomfortable.

He's scared. He knows he shouldn't be; he's an Archangel of Heaven, after all. A fearsome warrior, who's beaten countless horrible enemies.

All the same, Lucifer has never been this alone before. Not in all his time. Never before has he been without his brothers and sisters, especially Michael. They've always been together, nearly all of their moments spent by the other's side.

Nor has he ever been so far away from his home. The light of Heaven does not reach Hell, and it is horribly lonely.

I will not cry. He tells himself stubbornly. I will not. I am strong, I am not so weak as to shed tears over this. I will not cry.

Lucifer breaks on his third day locked in the cage. He huddles in one corner of his prison, rose-pink wings covering him completely.

He cries for a week, until his feathers are heavy with his tears. He is silent for another.

Nuzzling his face against one of his wings, Lucifer desperately wishes it was Michael's soft silvery blue feathers instead of his own, which were beginning to clump together from the tears and dust steadily accumulating on them. He longs to curl up next to his siblings, and share in their warmth and comfort.

But they are far away and it is just him here in the cage.

It takes a month before he uncurls from beneath his wings and starts to pace around his prison, looking for a way out. Lucifer has started to doubt that his Father is going to forgive him this time.

The months turn into a year, and the years go on and on. Lucifer's wings aren't pink anymore. They've turned a dirty gray, the same color as the filth that seems to have settled on the bars and floor of the cage.

What was once devastating loneliness, fear, and sadness has been twisted into anger and bitterness. Lucifer spends his time pacing the cage, occasionally beating the bars with his fists or wings. Bones are broken and feathers are lost, but he doesn't care. Hell is pain, anyways.

He vows to himself that when he sees his siblings again, they will suffer the same pain he does. Especially Michael. Especially their Father, who left him here, in the pit. In the dark. Alone.

Years become decades become centuries. There is little trace of the archangel left. What was once Lucifer the Morning Star has become what humanity knows him as, Lucifer the Devil. He doesn't mind. They should be afraid of him, anyways.

Things finally get interesting and he is accidentally released from the prison he's been in for so long.

Of course, Heaven's Plan is doomed. They never take free will into account.

He doesn't even get to properly fight Michael like he was told they would at the end of the world.

It's hard to believe there was once a time when they'd sworn never to hurt each other. When Michael grabbed him by the hands and told him fiercely that they would never, ever fight like that.

Instead, they are cast back into the cage together.

Michael has changed. He's truly become a warrior in Lucifer's many years of absence. He's no longer the kind, affectionately caring brother he once knew, who he once roamed the gardens of Heaven with. He's a soldier, and a damn good one.

They fight like wild beasts. They tear into each other's flesh and feathers. There are pauses, in which they glare at one another. Then the fighting resumes with more vigor.

Eventually they stop. There is no truce, but they are...tired. Going at one another's throats wears them down.

In an unspoken agreement, Lucifer gets half and Michael gets half.

Events are accelerating. Father's sister returns, he's free on the Earth once more, and he even gets to talk to his Father. His brother Gabriel returns (he'd killed him the last time he walked Earth- it was one of the his few regrets) and so does Michael.

He dies.

Death was one of the few things that scared him. Apart from loneliness, though he supposes those fears are intertwined.

Lucifer was terrified by tales of the Empty. He didn't want to walk alone in darkness for the rest of time. But that was the archangel he had once been. Now, the Devil stalks through the darkness like the monster parents tell their children about.

Silver tarnishes when it isn't cared for properly. Much in the same way that a soul can turn dark and rotted if left alone, if locked away from love and light. Monsters aren't born, they're made.

He wasn't always a monster.

…

It's the end. The end of times. Michael has been around nearly as long as his Father.

He is alone. Father is gone, he doesn't know where. His siblings are all dead, or roaming far flung corners of the universe. It doesn't matter, really. Soon nothing will matter, ever again.

The last of humanity has been dead for a millennia. The earth is dust and dirt and nothing more. The universe itself is dying, and Michael along with it.

Nothing lasts forever, not even something created by a God. And so this universe will die, and who knows what will come after, or if anything will at all.

A final wave of bright light explodes across the universe, incinerating everything. Even the archangel.

…

It's quiet. It's always quiet here, in this dark void.

Lucifer has been here for who knows how long.

Then the light comes, sweeping across everything until he is blinded by the white glow surrounding him.

Out of it, he hears a voice. One that he hasn't heard in so very long.

"Lucifer."

"Lucifer, it's me."

The blurry figure of his brother appears in front of him, his silvery wings spread in an awkward gesture that looks like he's waiting for a hug.

Michael does hug him, he pulls him close as tight as he can and wraps his wings around him.

Because Michael made his peace with all that had happened many years ago. Because even angels can change if they try hard enough.

"I am sorry."

Three words Lucifer never thought he'd hear from his brother. What surprises him even more are the three words he never thought he'd say in return.

"I forgive you."

Michael echoes his sentiment, telling him that it isn't too late to make amends, and no one is stopping them now, really, there's no one left to tell them what to do. There's no one left on earth to care about, or to watch over.

And because even angels can change, Lucifer hugs his brother back.

Michael combs his fingers through his wings, rubbing away the dirt that's gathered there over centuries. Pink feathers once again show through.

The Empty seems to be permanently lit with this light, and there are specks in the distance. Other angels. Their siblings.

Lucifer wasn't always the Devil. Just as you can clean the tarnish from silver with enough work, you can help a broken soul to heal.

So to put it quite simply, Lucifer fell. But he flew again too.