It still hurt.
Even millennia after falling, the betrayal of his brother still wouldn't leave him alone, and there were times when he whished Michael would have just killed him with that sword of his. Now was one of those times.
Because, as much as he had missed his baby brother he hadn't planned on seeing him again, much less actually facing him in a fight. He couldn't help but inwardly flinch at the words "Luci I'm home", those having been something special all those eons ago, and while on the outside he remained in firm big brother mode when Gabriel started insulting him, on the inside he was crying and begging his baby brother to take this words back, say he didn't actually mean them.
But he knew Gabriel did mean them, and he knew the younger archangel had long since stopped seeing him as a brother. Just like all the others.
Just like all the others, those who had stabbed him in the back, had abandoned him, those who where the reason he had been burned and bound and dying a million times, but never gaining piece, always feeling the pain. There was always pain.
Lucifer, though, unfortunately for himself, still cared and when his mind caught up with his reflexes as he forced down the blade that had been aimed at him, he almost let go.
He had never wanted to hurt Gabriel; not his baby brother of all angels.
But as his grip loosened he realised something else: It wasn't Gabriel. It was an illusion; a pretty good illusion, but an illusion still.
And so, he rammed the blade into his brothers belly and twister it, staring down at him with cold eyes.
"Amateur Hocus Pocus," he said, and knew that Gabriel knew better than to assume that he meant the first illusion. "Don't forget that you learnt all your tricks from me, little brother."
And the illusions eyes burned out, but the light was not bright enough to be an archangels grace, and the black imprints on the motel floor were much too small to be the wings of one.
Still, Lucifer had seen his baby brother die, and that was enough to almost make him cry. Almost.
He mentally slapped himself, forcing himself to focus and held back the tears, stood strong, walked fast.
And as he left the room he almost didn't hear the silent message his little brother sent him through a connection the morningstar himself had thought to be long since lost.
Almost.
'I'm sorry.'
And finally, the tears fell.
So, here we go with a quite short One-Shot... Yet.
I'll probably write more to this, but I'm not quite sure yet. Don't hold up any hopes.