Chapter 2

"Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime."

Mineko Iwasaki

It had been disturbingly easy to sneak Lucifer and Michael into the city and even into the Stratosphere lift without being noticed. Alex made a mental note to discuss tightening security measures with the Archangel as soon as possible. As much as she enjoyed her own little excursions outside the city walls and wasn't too keen on limiting her own freedom, Vega wasn't safe if a human and two angels could get to the very heart of it with nobody being the wiser.

The metal doors slid shut and Alex led the way into Michael's suite, while Lucifer carried his brother's long, lean body with astonishing ease. For all the effort it seemed to require, he could be carrying a baby, not a fully grown man... angel. The Devil let out a whistle, looking around. After all the ruin and destruction he'd witnessed on his way here, the luxury and opulence of these rooms were not what he'd been expecting.

"Nice digs, darling. Is this your place?" He gave Alex a curious once-over as he carried Michael into the circular bedroom. He appeared singularly impressed with the huge bed. "The things we could do on that bed..." Morningstar turned to Alex and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. The care he took gently depositing his brother on said bed belied his careless and ill-timed flirting, so she chose to ignore it.

"It's the Archangel's bed, actually." Alex smirked at the angel's disgruntled look at the news. "The Stratosphere is his tower and the Archangel Corps Headquarters are below. I'm sure if you ask nicely, your brother will let you join in on one of his orgy nights." Lucifer had been flirting with her incessantly throughout their clandestine journey, not discouraged in the least by her continuously expressed lack of interest and irritation. It was time to get some payback in the teasing department. So what if she had to use her ill-gained knowledge of Michael's not-so-secret secret stargazing sessions to do it? The self-proclaimed Devil was probably the last person she expected to actually mind what Michael was doing, so it couldn't do any real harm. He wasn't Whele or Riesen, to whom she'd never reveal the Archangel's secrets.

Lucifer, who'd somehow gravitated to the cabinet where the Archangel kept his liquor almost dropped the bottle of whiskey he'd picked up.

"His what? Join?" He sputtered. "That's... that's disgusting! That's... ugh..." Morningstar shuddered and shook his head violently as if to dispel the image from his mind. His behaviour and body language were so dramatic and open, it was hard to believe he and the stoic Archangel were related. "I'm all for fulfilling one's desires and getting dirty, but there are limits to even the Devil's depravity. The mere thought of Mikey and sex together in the same sentence is one of them!"

"Well, the two definitely more than go in a sentence together, from what I've heard." Lannon smirked at the horrified angel, before she reminded him why they were here at all. "Now put that bottle down. You're here to heal your brother, not drink his booze."

"Oh, bossy. I like it." Lucifer leered. He opened the bottle and raised it to his lips. Just before taking a large gulp, he said: "There's no reason why I can't do both, little soldier. Angels can't get drunk and my drinking has no effect on my ability to heal."

"But the fact that he's lost a lot of blood and he's had a mortal wound in his gut for hours surely does! That's why you came, isn't it? To help him? Because he wouldn't survive otherwise?"

"Alright, alright! Relax a little, Sunshine. Mikey's going to be fine, my word is my bond." He took another swig of the whiskey. It was quite good, actually. Mikey was clearly full of surprises today – the tower, the room, the choice alcohol... orgies... their flaring connection... Morningstar felt he needed much, much more than this one bottle, really and that didn't even take into consideration what had happened the day before – Mother, Chloe, getting knocked out and waking up in the desert with unwanted appendages...

Speaking of the Dad-damned things, Lucifer unfolded his wings and the sight of the beautiful, glowing white plumage startled Alex. She couldn't help but stare at them in astonishment. The light filtering through the windows made them hard to look at, it was almost like looking at the sun.

"Your wings are white!" She exclaimed.

"Why of course they are. I am the Lightbringer, after all. I couldn't exactly fly around with black feathers like everyone else, now, could I?" Lucifer said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world that his wings should be unique among all his siblings. It had always been that way and he'd never questioned it. Once upon a time, when his Father's approval and love had still mattered to him, he'd been proud of the distinction. He'd been the Favourite Son. His had been the wings of paintings and frescoes – the white feathers resplendent and glorious, as blinding and marvellous as the stars he'd lighted. Now, however...

Now he was just glad he had his wings because it meant that he could use just a single one of his feathers to bring Michael back from the brink of death. Everything else could wait. He would deal with his other... emotions... when he could talk to Linda again. She always helped him put things into perspective after all. He had to make sure she had a job to return to once she got out of the hospital too, once he was back. Maze had been adamant they should help, but with everything else going on and with his inability to lie, Lucifer hadn't been much use, he could admit that in hindsight. He would do better once he got back to LA, if it turned out Maze hadn't dealt with the problem with her usual... finesse. Come to think of it, Linda had been back in her office when his mother had come to her. Did that mean she had her license back? It hadn't even occurred to him to ask... Maybe he really was as much of a selfish ass as Maze claimed he was?

If he kept it up, it wouldn't take much to get Mazikeen pissed off enough to actually be willing to help him cut his wings off again once they'd outlived their current usefulness. That'd be one less problem to deal with at least. Finding out who had knocked him out, restored his wings and brought him to this strange place was paramount, though. Whoever they were, Lucifer was determined to introduce them to Hell personally.

The Devil flexed his wings experimentally before he tried to curl one towards himself. The movement felt natural and awkward at the same time, but rather than dwell on it, their owner plucked a rather large feather and held it over the wound in his brother's stomach.

"I need you to pull out the shard." He addressed Alex. Meanwhile, he tried to hide his wings again. Unlike before, when they'd followed his commands with surprising ease, this time they wouldn't budge.

"Me?"

"Well of course you, there's no one else here, is there?" The angel said in exasperation, though it was more a result of his wings refusing to cooperate than anything else. "Now hurry up, chop-chop, little soldier. We've wasted enough time as it is, and the longer we wait, the longer Mikey's recovery will take and I for one have better things to do than sit about waiting for His High and Mightiness here to wake up."

While trying to pry a piece of sword from Michael's still bleeding wound was pretty far down on the list of things Alex ever wanted to do in her life, she didn't argue. The metal was slippery with blood, though, and getting it out was easier said than done.

"Careful now, we don't want you to cut your fingers off there, love." Lucifer said unhelpfully as Lannon's fingers slipped yet again. The soldier glared at him.

"Oh really? Why don't you do it then?" She said sarcastically.

"I don't fancy getting cut by Empyrean Steel myself, darling. Those wounds are always a nuisance to heal properly. Often enough they leave scars even if they do, too. I'm rather partial to my hands staying as beautiful and unmarred as they are. The ladies would be so disappointed if I spoiled something so perfect."

Was this guy for real? Alex rolled her eyes, but made another valiant attempt, this time managing to get a firmer grip on the metal in question and pulling it out a little. Blood gushed from the wound and Michael gasped in pain. His eyes opened for a moment before he squeezed them shut.

"Father...?" He asked breathlessly, all he felt was pain and, at first, all he could see was light. Bright, blinding light. "Father...?" That's what the warmth at his side felt like... he felt a strong presence... grace and light. His Father's touch was near... and fresh. It was something he hadn't felt since his own resurrection, when God had not only brought him back to life, but had given him his wings back.

"Now there's no need to be insulting, Mikey. Here I am, trying to save your life and that's how you show gratitude?" A hauntingly familiar voice scoffed from his right.

"Lu...Lucifer?" Michael whispered in astonishment. He opened his eyes and squinted against the white glare reflecting off his brother's magnificent wings. That explained the light and the grace... Only, Father had stripped Samael of his grace before ordering his other Archangels to kill their brother. There was no way the Lightbringer could actually be here now, with all his glory restored, which meant that Michael himself had to be dead or dreaming. Though, the last time he'd died, he couldn't remember seeing the Son of the Morning there with him. Not that he'd been dead for long 25 years ago, Father had quickly restored him. He couldn't remember any of his pain carrying on into death either...

"You're not dead, Mikey, and neither am I." Lucifer said, exasperated and incredulous. His white feather still poised over torn flesh, momentarily forgotten. The wings at his back gave a twitch, but still refused to disappear. Stubborn bloody things! "What's all that about you dying 25 years ago?" His brow wrinkled in confusion and surprise.

Michael realised that he must have voiced some of his thoughts aloud.

"Nothing, it doesn't matter." Michael muttered through gritted teeth. Dear Father it hurts! "I'm dying... or I should be dead already..." His voice trailed off and he studied the figure leaning over him. It really did look like Lucifer... He was hallucinating. Clearly.

"It's definitely what Furiad had in mind, that's for certain. Whether that's what should have happened or not, well, that's not really my place to say. Dad works in mysterious ways and has His own grand plan for everything and all that rot..." Morningstar grimaced in distaste. "It's definitely not going to happen on my watch, I can assure you of that, baby brother. I still plan on giving you a good ass kicking once you're all better, though. It's the least that I owe you." Lucifer assured. He gestured for Alex to pull the metal all the way out and Michael hissed, refusing to scream. The Archangel could no longer see the white of the Morning Star's wings, everything was darkness and he could feel the last of his strength slipping away, the life trickling out of him with every increasingly frantic pulse of his heart...

He'd seen the feather in his brother's hand, though. He'd heard his assurances.

"Wouldn't it be easier now, when I'm not at my full strength? Or you could just wait and watch me die, if it's revenge you're after, Lucifer." He was dying. He was delirious. He was slipping away and his last vision was of his dead brother... As much as he wished it was otherwise, their beloved Son of the Morning was no more, his remains cast into the ocean... and even if he was here, surely he wouldn't be trying to save him? Not after the part Michael had played in his demise...

"That would imply I want you dead, dear brother, which I don't, as it happens. Besides, it wouldn't really be sporting to fight you now and where'd the fun be in that?" The Devil smirked. He placed his feather over the wound and focused his gaze upon it. "As for letting you die from the mad mongrel's wound... your little human might take exception to that. She's quite protective of you, little brother, and quite feisty."

"Alex!" Michael felt a rush of panic. "Where's Alex? Is she alright? I need to see her!" His voice was urgent and anxious, slurred with pain and exhaustion though it was, and he even made a feeble attempt at sitting up.

"Easy there!" Lucifer put a halting hand on the younger Archangel's shoulder, while Alex did the same at his other side.

"I'm right here, Michael. Don't worry." She placated, sitting next to her commander and trying not to let her own panic seep into her voice. "Lucifer, please, you have to heal him now!"

"Alex..." Michael tried to open his eyes. Meanwhile, Lucifer's eyes flashed fire and so did the snowy feather in his fingers. Alex had to shield her eyes against the fierce glare and she felt tense muscles relax under her fingers. When she thought it was safe to look up again, she saw the Archangel's still face and the unblemished skin where the gaping wound had been only moments before. His chest was rising and falling slowly. The angel had only passed out. Alex released the breath she'd been holding and only now allowed herself the luxury of tears. The young woman refused to cry, but she let silent tears trail down her cheeks as she smoothed the torn, bloody material covering Michael's shoulder.

Everything was going to be alright now. As long as Michael was going to be alright, they could work everything else out... Together. She'd listen to him and let him help her. Running away clearly hadn't worked out well for her... or for Michael. Alex would try to do things the Archangel's way this time. As long as he wasn't another person who died because of her, she was willing to be more cooperative.

Michael's obvious concern for her, even when he wasn't fully conscious, had warmed her. Surely the markings couldn't have been warning her against the Archangel and she would do well to trust him from now on. Even if he only cared about her because she was the Chosen One, it was still more than most had ever shown her. Michael had certainly done more for her than anyone else and she might not even be here if it hadn't been for him. He would die for her. He'd proved that. Just as her mother had... Alex didn't want him or anyone else to get hurt because of her, but knowing there was someone who cared enough about her to give up their life for her meant the world to her, especially now that she'd lost Jeep all over again.

Alex wasn't alone anymore.