It's all Father's fault. All of it.
Lucifer was fighting to keep himself from shouting. He didn't want a fight. Michael, it seemed, did want one.
We were so happy.
Michael had turned away now, was walking off, ignoring Lucifer's panicked voice. Lucifer ran after his big brother, desperate to keep him there.
Then those bloody humans turned up, and this damn prophecy was made.
Michael whirled around, shaking Lucifer's hand off his shoulder, yelling again. Lucifer grabbed him by the shoulders again, lowering his voice, pleading, using his best 'baby brother' eyes, trying to appeal to the love he knew Michael still carried for him.
Now he looks at me like I'm a monster.
Michael faltered. For just a second, his resolve slipped. He reached up, touching Lucifer's cheek. Lucifer leaned into the contact.
Why does he have to be so loyal to that old bastard?
Michael realized what was happening and jumped away, out of Lucifer's arms. With a flutter of wings, he was gone.
Why can't he put me first?