I don't own Supernatural. This just came to me so I decided to type it up... don't hate? I do enjoy twisting Lucifer's character around, but this is the first story I've ever actually posted with him not being all die-mudmonkeys-die-and-take-all-of-civilisation-along-with-you as his main attitude...
Afterwards, Gabriel reflected that maybe, just maybe, they should have seen it coming. Lucifer couldn't have been unscarred from his time in the Cage, after all, and all that time alone after being thrown down by his utterly-trusted only elder brother on orders from their Father… that couldn't be good for anyone's mental state. If he'd seen it earlier, during their confrontation at the Elysian Fields where Lucifer had staggered back an atom's distance from plunging his own Blade into his chest with a stricken expression… maybe they could have stopped this. Prevented this tragedy from happening.
Michael stared in mute shock at the limp Vessel devoid of the Morningstar's Grace, his brother's very being, and dropped laxly to Adam's knees, eyes empty and blank as he tried to force himself to come to terms with what had just happened.
Raphael gazed emptily, and the world just seemed to stop as the gleaming silver bullet shot out from the barrel of the gun in Lucifer's own hand and blasted into his temple in a spray of blood and desperately flaring white light.
"I am so, so sorry," the second-oldest child of God had choked out in a broken whisper. "At least… now you won't have to worry about me ruining everything again. I love you all so very much, and I wouldn't be able to bear it if any of you were hurt because of me."
The gun's report was loud in the silence of Stull Cemetery as the trigger was pulled.
There was a high, ringing scream, and a blaze of Archangelic light for a split second. When it faded the frail body of the dying boy Lucifer had taken as a vessel was lying on his back, surrounded by the shadows of six gargantuan wings of dark, smoking ash, and a single blackened feather floated to the ground to land silently on the singed grass.
Maybe, Gabriel's thoughts echoed in his uncharacteristically empty mind, If we'd only listened, if we'd only paid a little bit more attention to him-
Maybe he wouldn't have become suicidal enough to shoot himself in the head with bullets made of his own melted-down Blade.
Thunder crackled in the sky as storm clouds gathered, and rain fell all over the planet as all of Heaven wept.
Inside a house miles away the 'Prophet' sat in front of his computer, fingers white-knuckled around the glass of alcohol in his hand, and hot, salty tears streamed from wide dark brown eyes.
How did it come to this? Four minds wondered bleakly, and lightning crackled.
The glowing, roiling titanic sphere of ever-burning gas that was the Morning Star so many, many light-years away sputtered and died, its light dimming and fading out.
And so Satan, the Devil, Lucifer… perished.
