A/N: T rating for implied/referenced torture and some disturbing imagery. Takes place directly after the finale of Season 11. Thank you for reading.

XX

The long slow draw of that sharp edge which pierced and cut clean without leaving a single ragged piece. Brilliant in its excruciating force, bearing down though he had long ceased the fight. Heaven's greatest warrior bleeding upon the floor of hell and he would laugh at the sight if that pain had not already crushed his voice.

There was no purity left for this place to carve from him. It had run in rivers when they fell, pouring out still trapped within these walls. Morning Star had carried the taint needed to survive. He did not and his form was brutalized, the prison almost sentient in its glee of ripping through it over and over.

Finally the hour, if such a thing existed here, came that he ceased to rebuild. Torn enough that his fractured form contained pieces far too small to ever stitch back into this fractured quilt of him. Some part of him missed that, the feeling of reforming that was fresh and forced him to understand he still lived despite the effort around him to bury that spark to nothing.

Not that it mattered. Whatever he was, whatever he had been did not exist now as he lay here longing for death but not his own.

"Do you remember what we were?" Lucifer's voice was clear and near though he did not bother to raise his head to see. The Morning Star had returned though he doubted it was by his own volition. Watching his brother scheme was exhausting in and of itself.

"Which part? Before or after all of this?"

Idle words for him which held no meaning outside of not knowing which he longed for more. His brother was all teeth and harsh edges leaning over him, looking as though on a scavenge to find some precious treasure long lost. As though there was anything of value in him remaining.

"You want death," Lucifer said flatly, his voice carrying to the far reaches of their home.

"Yes."

Some of those many hands were on him, his brother's light seeping and growing stronger as he was brought up from his more prone position. Unless there was a promise to be made he would punish this interruption to get what he needed.

Lucifer's laughter rang out as a chime that made this land of damnation shudder.

"Oh brother," Morning Star whispered to him, smoothing out the lines and oozing wounds upon his wings. "If I had known I would have come back sooner. There is nothing left but to destroy. Would you like that?"

"Yes."

Oh, the thought of the earth burned to ash, his baby brother's screaming as they unraveled before him made him sink fingers into a set of his brother's wings. Made him twist and pull as Lucifer gasped, caught between a sob and ecstasy.

"Good Michael. I know a way out now," came the whisper and his hands sunk in further, feeling the wounds widen, his brother's essence flowing more freely now. "You and I will take it apart as slowly as you want."

It was the promise he had yearned for, the want to feel as Lucifer sunk his teeth in peeling back a morsel of him as he cried out and ripped more savagely. Morning Star was singing through his cries, dismantling him all over again and he held in the words that would beg for more, for it to be faster. It was to be savored as the gift it was.

Pain was the only purity left and soon all of creation would be pure.