"Well, well, well. What brings you here?"
Uriel doesn't have a good answer for that. Separation from the rest of his garrison during the onslaught of Hell is one thing; visiting Lucifer's cage is entirely another. There will be no easy explanations for this to Zachariah, to Castiel—
"So don't explain it to them," Lucifer tells him, cutting off Uriel's reverie. Having closed much of the space between them — save the transparent barrier between them — he leans against the cold cave wall and not a speck of dirt seems to touch him. In fact, Hell doesn't seem to have had any effect on his appearance whatsoever: the Grace remains, radiating from him, granting his skin a cool sheen, and the glorious construction — it's still intact.
"Oh, I know, little brother," Lucifer interjects again, smirking this time. Uriel feels something in him clench and twist at that smirk, and the pleasure of it warms him. "All this time, and I don't look a day older than when He made me. But we're getting off topic: you came to see me, and I say, 'so what?' I mean, Castiel's a little too concerned with Dean Winchester to care, and Zachariah doesn't need to know anything about anything; he just files the paperwork and takes the credit when you, Anna, Castiel, and the rest are the ones doing all the work—"
"She did not come with us," Uriel says flatly. Briefly, Lucifer seems confused, and Uriel clarifies: "Anna has not been among the heavenly host for twenty-three years. She disobeyed direct orders and chose to become one of the mud-monkeys instead."
Lucifer sighs, and shakes his head. "What a shame. She had so much promise. I mean, up until the big choice she made — you think she made it wrong, don't you, brother?"
Something hot wells up in Uriel, where the warmth did before, but it brings him no comfort. This burns too hot for righteous indignation, the form of anger generally allowed to angels: this fire and its sting, they writhe like betrayal. Uriel averts his eyes from Lucifer's beauty; the sword he brought with him for the harrowing quivers in his hand while he considers this question. Finally, it falls. He looks up.
"Of course she made it wrong," he hisses. "If she wished to fall, then she could have set her sights on being something more useful and less destructive. Our Father gave those creatures everything in Creation, even the ability to spit in His face and run rampant with sin and disobedience — what have they done with it?"
"Nothing but destruction," Lucifer agrees. "Even if I weren't going to get out of here — and I am, brother. Not even God's precious Winchesters can stop me, but… even if they could, it wouldn't do anything. Mankind's going six billion strong and they will destroy themselves, with or without my help." He smacks his hand into the barrier, and presses up against it. Whispering, he says, "That's why you need to get me out of here, Uriel. We can save this world — we can save God's Creation — from being ravaged beyond repair."
A thought occurs, one Uriel almost doesn't wish to admit to: "What about the humans?" he asks.
Lucifer chuckles. "You know your plans for the Rapture. Anyone worth saving, we save. The rest of them can be in Alastair's hands for eternity and it will still be more than they deserve." As if reaching out, he presses his other hand into the barrier. His stare burns with unrivaled intensity. "Are you with me, Uriel?"
Uriel puts up a hand and thrusts it toward his brother's. Even though the barrier stops them from touching, the proximity nevertheless brings exhilaration.
"Yes."