First thing Lucifer heard upon slowly coming back to consciousness, was a vibrant, loud static noise. It was all he could hear, all he could feel - it seemed almost thick; filling every cell of his brain like hundreds of cotton balls. His ears were ringing, and there was something entirely unpleasant covering the sides of his face and the skin on his hands – enough to make him grimace. Dried blood, most likely. Right. It had to be blood, because he rather doubted it could have come from him having a good time in Heaven. And, honestly, he didn't want to make any Game of Thrones and Sweet Home Alabama jokes at his own expense.

He rolled onto his back with a hint of a smile teasing the corner of his mouth because of the humor in his thoughts. It was faint, sure, Lucifer didn't really have much strength for anything else, but it helped him get rid of the trembling in his hands (how dare they?), and, well, focus on his surroundings. He needed to be able to hear. At least until another one of Michael's fancy attacks. Oh, how Lucifer enjoyed having bloody loud sirens go off inside his very head. It was such a pleasure. Almost like being whipped!

And not in the fun way. He would know, truly.

Soon, though, the high-pitched ringing in his eyes turned low-pitched, and then stopped completely. It was… it was good, no? One step closer to feeling well enough for an escape attempt.

If Lucifer could walk, that is. Or even push himself up. Bloody hell.

Honestly, it'd been enough time, hadn't it? Where was Crowley? Amenadiel? Even Aziraphale, although Lucifer would greatly appreciate a very distinct lack of the angel's flaming sword this time around. They would show up, wouldn't they? Of course, no, they didn't know that Michael was planning on forcing Lucifer to open up Dad's prison, but maybe the threat of having Lucifer killed would be enough to… intervene? Maybe? They hadn't showed up for his trial, though.

In their defense, Lucifer had been pretty calm about the whole dying thing.

Not so much now.

Family reunions were bound to be disasters, and the one with his dear, gunning-for-revenge Dad even more so. Seriously, Lucifer had just saved that other world, he didn't need to have all of his hard work undone! Also, the destruction of this world would probably be the cherry on top, wouldn't it?

Oh, and the Horsemen. Still out there. And he had forgotten about them.

Lucifer gritted his teeth as he grabbed the rough edge of a random stone sticking out from the uneven wall. He pulled himself up slowly, determined to get out of his cell and find Michael. And this time he wouldn't give his twin a chance to attack first. Lucifer would bloody slam the mute button on the idiot.

Alright, one foot in front of the other. And again. He could put most of his weight on the walls, couldn't he? He'd handle it.

Also, if he stayed here any longer, in this absolutely lovely prison cell made of blocks of stone, probably not washed in centuries, no bed, no bloody mini-bar, then the unwanted memories would come back, and Lucifer definitely wasn't itching for a reminder of how he'd been suspended by a chain attached to both his wrists and wings before his Fall, and then left to… he still wasn't sure, to do what. Because the stubborn rebellious angel hadn't been about to break and apologize for wanting free will. The first couple of hours hadn't been that bad, actually. The next couple of days had been pure agony, and not only because of the dislocated shoulders and broken wings.

But, well, he wasn't going to dwell on it now. Or ever.

The sound of the door opening caught Lucifer by surprise, especially because he was almost by it, trying to decide how to proceed from then since neither his powers, nor brute strength would work its magic on the bloody door. So what the actual—

"Crowley? Amenadiel? What, fifteen minutes late and with Starbucks?"

It didn't even deserve to be called a whisper, already overcame by how annoyingly loud the door scraped against the stone floor. It also didn't help that Lucifer's voice was so hoarse and weak from the screaming that he barely recognized it. Dad-damnit, seriously. Also, it was way too dark in here for his liking, especially because it made it harder to identify the person that entered the cell, and if Lucifer called Crowley by Amenadiel's name, he'd have to deal with a very irritated demon, he was sure of that.

Honestly, he'd take it.

But he also was going to rate this cell one star out of five, never to be visited again.

"Oh, I don't think they're going to come to your rescue. Or to bring any gross matters into Heaven."

Lucifer took a step back just out of reflex, too surprised to think clearly, and almost caught his foot on a small projection because of that. What the bloody hell? What was he doing here?

"Gabriel! So nice to have you here instead," Lucifer spoke as calmly as he could, "brother dearest. Why, did you come here to gloat? Mock me? Go against Mikey's verdict and finish the job by finishing me? Well, don't have too much fun with that."

Gabriel first placed his hand on the lock, sealing the door behind himself, then turned around with a sigh. With all that was happening, he couldn't exactly risk Lucifer escaping and then wandering around, cracking jokes and making everyone want to kill him just to shut him up.

Alright. Time to get to the point. The archangel smoothed down his blue-grey coat, wondering if he would be able to keep it clean in this disgusting, claustrophobic prison cell.

"I'm here to help you, so try and learn to appreciate it, okay? Do we understand each other, Adversary?"

Lucifer and Gabriel stared at each other for a long moment.

"I've been told I'm a terrible student," Lucifer finally said.

"I mean, it is true. You were the last one of our group to learn how to fly. All of us had to take turns to help—" Gabriel stopped, then cleared his throat. That just wouldn't do. Lucifer wasn't his younger brother anymore, he was the Great Adversary, the Beast. The archangel needed to remember why exactly he hated and despised that pathetic evil incarnate before him. Lucifer was proud, too proud, too powerful, and he had never even stopped to acknowledge and value what he's got, while Gabriel had to work hard for his position in Heaven of being the leader of the angels. "It's in the past, though. Don't forget that I still wish Father had killed you. You're deplorable. Evil. A worm is better than you, Lucifer."

"Right, right." Lucifer nodded. He still was trying to wrap his mind around Gabriel being right here, standing in the cell in his pristine, light colored clothes, looking pretty pompous and snobbish. So, like usual. "Hold on, a worm? That's a bit harsh, Gabriel. Dearie me, my feelings, ouch."

"It's only true. The only good thing about you is—"

"I have a good thing about me now?"

"I know, I was surprised, too." Gabriel shrugged. He made sure to speak with disdain. "But you can be useful."

Lucifer pushed himself from the wall, so he would stop leaning against it. Oh, no, no. No showing weakness in Gabriel's presence. Not now. Instead, he bared his teeth in a sharp smile, with a hint of bitter laughter in his voice.

"Ah, that again. Torture me all you want, brother, bring your best bloody tools, but I'm not opening Dad's prison. Don't you get what's going to happen then? Well, yes, I know you don't really care about humans or this world, but don't fool yourself that our dear Dad won't be furious with you, too," Lucifer drawled out, almost sympathetic here. "You're just as proud as I am, if not more. You've always wanted to rule Heaven. I mean, Gabriel, goodness… Already forgot how eager you were to abandon the idea of starting the Apocalypse just so you could parade me around and show everyone you're the Big Boss here?"

Gabriel let Lucifer have his little rant, why not. He stood there, irritated but silent until he was sure the Adversary was finished.

"You know, Lucifer, it only shows you don't really listen, except for when it's you who's yapping." The archangel spread his arms slightly, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt. Maybe Lucifer was right, but that didn't mean Gabriel wanted to hear it. "Crowley already said all of that, and I agree. Father won't be happy, and He might want to recklessly punish— some angels."

Lucifer grinned at him, this time a little more amused.

"Meaning you."

"Well, obviously, not only me." That cheeky excuse for an angel, seriously. If Lucifer were to be to hung by his innards, Gabriel would watch it with pleasure. "But I want you to stop Michael. Or to seal the prison in a way that wouldn't allow anyone to open it again."

"You do?" Lucifer couldn't help but snort at the words. Oh, lovely, the world was really coming to an end if Gabriel was asking Lucifer, of all angels and demons, and in-betweens, to save his neck. "Bloody hell, pinch me. Am I dreaming?"

Gabriel thought he'd very much like to punch Lucifer instead. Well, those dreams could still come true someday.

"Agree, and I will take care of the Horsemen."

"What? How? They're much more powerful than you." Lucifer frowned at his brother, not fully comprehending how exactly the other archangel wanted to achieve this. Although, yes, that'd be pretty nice – one less thing to worry about, and he had plenty anyway, thanks to his wonderful family. "And I want more. I want you to promise you won't touch Amenadiel's little Urchin. Better yet, don't touch anyone. Humans, especially."

"Then we have a deal." Gabriel's eyes were drawn to Lucifer's hand when he held it out, but really, the archangel wouldn't take it even through a towel. "Put it down. I don't know where it's been exactly, but knowing your history, in too many places for my taste. As for the Horsemen, I'll talk to Azrael. Death leads the rest of their group, so without her…"

"…they would have to scatter. Brilliant, brother! So you're not as stupid as I've always thought!" The look on Gabriel's face said more than a thousand words, and Lucifer threw his hands up, exasperated. "What? I assumed you already knew."

The archangel simply pinched the bridge of his nose, praying to Someone merciful enough for some strength. That was already too much for him to handle – no wonder Heaven had gotten so amazingly quiet ever since that chatterbox's Fall. All the better for Gabriel to practice his peaceful morning runs. He remembered when they had been younger, and he'd tried to mediate. Lucifer had sat next to him, probably attempting to meditate as well, and then talked. Kept talking some pure nonsense the whole time.

"Oh, come on." The weirdest thing ever, but Lucifer actually looked half frustrated, half guilty. It absolutely fascinated Gabriel. Was it because they were having a civilized conversation? Did Lucifer think all his crimes were forgiven and forgotten simply because Gabriel needed his help? Laughable. "I didn't mean to make you all broody now. I have Amenadiel for that."

"And I have you to keep up your end of the deal." Gabriel touched the door, focusing on it. He wasn't the prisoner here, so the lock clicked, allowing the archangel to push the door fully open. "You're free to leave, Lucifer. Shut your mouth and do your part instead."

"My part, right." Lucifer didn't really point out the fact that he was barely standing up now. It was kinda obvious, come to think of it. Most likely it was also the reason they could talk now – since Gabriel wasn't really worried about Lucifer attacking him. "So, what is it going to be? Michael or our loving Father?"

"Both, if you manage. You're the Devil, after all."

XXX

The main problem with fighting in Lucifer's state was, well, Lucifer's state. For now, sure, he somehow had managed to avoid being seen as he limped down the street, sometimes forced to hide behind a building, or a silver tree, but that was no way to continue. And that was also no way to fight Michael. Lucifer needed to rest, and he needed to rest badly.

While, yes, as a child Lucifer had had several secret hiding places, especially useful after every and each prank Rae-Rae and him had pulled on Amenadiel, only one of them would still fit him. The old music room – full of psalteries and pipes, and flutes, and harpsichords, and pianofortes, and other instruments Lucifer had played to worship his Father.

And, truly, how was he the prideful one, when it was his dear old Dad who had wanted His humble and obedient children to sing Him praises for all eternity?

Had this family ever been not toxic?

Two hours of sleep later, couple of angels seeing him passed out but not saying anything nor raising any alarms, one music room left after waking up rested— and at least Lucifer didn't have to limp any longer. He even thought he saw Rae-Rae talking with Gabriel, just as he spread his wings to fly. Ah, right, he still needed to go to Linda and demand an answer as to why, for Dad's sake, they were white now. Top 10 Unsolved Mysteries of the Universe.

Just before Lucifer took off, he noticed a tall, absolutely gorgeous apple tree. Ooh, the memories.

XXX

"I'm a country girl, I ain't seen a lot," Lucifer bit down on a silver apple, just as he tried the handle to Michael's office. It was their Father's old one, so – nice touch, brother. It was also open, with no guardian angels around, and maybe that should have made him think. Even if it did, he didn't have time for that, "but you came along, and my heart went pop. You lured me in with your cold brown eyes, your simple smile, your bewitching lies. One and one and one is three," Lucifer walked inside, admiring how Michael had redecorated – it seemed that his twin rather liked minimalism, judging from how there was only a single black writing desk, with a single black chair behind it. Oh, and a black bookshelf, how could have he not noticed it straight away! What a lap of luxury, truly. Michael was in the chair, facing the wall, so Lucifer could only see the back of his head, "…my bad, bad Angel, you put the Devil in me!"

"You shouldn't sing with your mouth full, Lucifer. It makes you sound off-key."

The lightness of Michael's voice was the first thing that stopped the Devil in his tracks. The other thing – well, his words, because, seriously? What a low blow. What an awful lie.

"I beg your pardon, off-key? How dare you? Take that back, brother," Lucifer scoffed just as Michael finally got up from the chair and turned around. The archangel was holding Charlie in his arms, letting the little Urchin play with his white scarf.

The smallest traces of good humor still present in Lucifer disappeared on the spot.

"I think I just dare," Michael shrugged, "I was going to visit you later, in that cell of yours, to try and convince you again that you have no other choice than to obey, but, well. Thank you for saving me the trip."

"Right, brother, don't mention it. I see you've made another one instead. But, if the teenage mutant ninja angel baby is here, then what—"

For Hell and Heaven's sake both, a mute button? A mute button?! Lucifer was going to mute the archangel for all bloody eternity now if he had touched just one hair on anyone's head.

"You mean what happened to your pet humans? They're safe. For now. Sandalphon is with them, actually. They were terribly easy to find once Amenadiel left for some reason." Michael looked down at the child in his arms, and smiled at the baby in that odd, unnerving way of his. "Are you ready to listen now, Lucifer?"

Lucifer breathed out a feral, short laugh, but nodded nonetheless. He didn't have any other choice, did he? If he tried to attack, he would end up hurting the Urchin. And if he refused to free their Father, Michael already had the nephilim with him.

"Oh, sir, yes," the Devil pressed mockingly through his teeth. "Can't wait, darling."

Michael just nodded, completely unbothered by Lucifer's attitude. He shifted Charlie a little, so he could hold him comfortably in just one arm.

"Good. On your knees, then. Mouth open. Stick your tongue out."

Err, that… Lucifer couldn't help, but blink at his brother, confused enough to momentarily forget about the situation at hand. Or in hands. In arms. Because- what?

"I'm sorry, are we going to shoot an intro to a porn movie? You're aware we're twins, yes? I have no desire to have sex with myself, except on those lonely mornings."

"Oh, no. I'm simply going to return the favor, Lucifer. And maybe do one for everybody who was ever forced to hear you talking."

Right. Of course Michael was still hung up on that, why the hell not? Honestly, Lucifer might have preferred the porn thing.

"While I generally agree, eh, Your Excellency, The Holiest Voice of God there is, surely…" All of sudden the door was pushed open and blocked from bouncing off the wall with a certain demon's foot. Both Lucifer and Michael turned to look incredulously at the entrance, especially when Crowley lifted his hand in a lazy greeting gesture. He was swinging a metal pipe back and forward in his other hand, having his fun with it, "…I still think you should get the fuck away from our Lord Lucifer, Mike."

"And from my son," added Amenadiel. He and Aziraphale – holding the flaming sword, of course – were standing behind Crowley. "Before we all do something we'll regret later. Hello, Luci."